


Hitch & Call - Out of the frying pan into the fire

by J_Flattermann



Category: Appaloosa - All Media Types, Comanche Moon (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Period-Typical Racism, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 35,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Flattermann/pseuds/J_Flattermann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Governor of Texas has given the two a new assignment that sees them off to New Mexico to meet with the famous Colonel Carson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Onwards

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. 
> 
> You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text. 
> 
> «Have to change Newt’s age to five to fit with the time line in the movie.»

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire**   (crossposting to meduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1970

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historical figures. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text. «Have to change Newt’s age to five to fit with the time line in the movie.»_

 

 

  


_ Everett _

 

It's about ten days ago that we arrived in Austin. Woodrow is going about to arrange for our nearing departure. I still am unacquainted with the city and follow him around like a dutiful dog.

On our errands he introduces me to some of the people. At the General Store I meet with the '[in]famous' Maggie. She seems to be a nice lady and doesn't do whoring anymore after the birth of her son. I also have met with Newt. The lad usually hangs about the Ranger's station. Gus, Ol' Ikey and Joshua Deets are looking after him when he's there. The boy is lively and smart for his five years. Woodrow merely tolerates him but hardly make notice of the boy.

Gus is rambling about this on and on.

 

Despite being out and about to get our gear, Woodrow's legs have healed. Only a few scars are remaining behind as a reminder.

Since we received our marching order from the governor Gus was pestering both Woodrow and me that he is not chosen to accompany us on that mission. But Governor Pease insists that he is kept out of it and so he is not invited to the regular briefings at the Governor's house.

Woodrow is tired of explaining and walks the other way every time Gus appears.

 

I am afraid Captain Augustus McCrae is taking that very badly. All the explanations that we are on the governor's orders and had no saying in this are falling on barren ground. Even the clear statement that the governor has strictly ordered only unmarried men and non of the rangers to be withdrawn from their duties, does not console Gus. I somehow feel sorry for him. This will be the first time in many years that he and Woodrow are split up on a mission. Despite or rather because of the fact that Gus is expected to lead the rangers makes it all worse.

 

At first he accused Woodrow to have done this on purpose to get rid of him. But taking him to the side I explained: “Gus, it wasn't Woodrow's idea. Woodrow merely reported back to the governor what Famous Shoes had told him during that meeting they had out on the range. It was the governor who told Woodrow that he had to take on that assignment because he wasn't married. Governor Pease made it pretty clear that he would not have you or any of the boys on that mission. That was why Woodrow asked me.”

 

I bet Woodrow will miss Gus's “idle palaver” as soon as we have left Austin. And I am afraid I am no replacement for that.

 

Woodrow has purchased six horses and it looks like I am going to loose my chestnut mare. Not happy about that. I have grown fond of the little beast.

 

I am standing by the corral at the Ranger's station. Watching Woodrow breaking in our horses. Wow, that is stamina. Never seen somebody so good. The boys are all next to me even wee Newt.

I lift him up and stand him on the planks of the corral so he sees better.

 

He is all excited and I have to explain to him what Woodrow does and why.

 

The boys all are making hints that Newt is just like Woodrow. Maybe I'm blind or prejudiced but I see no resemblance.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Woodrow _

 

Thanks to Everett Gus isn't pestering me too much. Everett keeps him occupied and I am able to make myself sparse. There are enough things I have to set my mind to besides the regular meeting with the governor.

 

I have bought some spare horses for Hitch and myself. Haven't told Gus but they are of Bob Allen's stock, Clara's husband. They are still in need to be broken in. So I have the corral readied today and Deets helps. He's letting the horses in, one after the other.

So I have one horse at a time. At first I have to make sure that they are getting used to people and their tack. So it's throwing the hoolihan until the horse stops shying at first contact.

At first I let the maguey drop off and as soon as the horse gets used to its touch I shall rope her.

This will always take a few attempts still. But finally the hoolihan falls over the neck and I get her steady. Closing in to calm her down.

“Deets, hand me the hackamore.” I say and as soon as he does let it glide over her face. Deets grins. “A good cayuse, that one.” He says and his white teeth shine like a string of pearls in his black face. I nod. Truly she is.

 

“Captain, do you need the bridle and bit?” He asks but I shake my head. She is a calm one, no need for heavy artillery. That can wait for the troublesome.

I jump up her and apart from moving a bit she remains calm. She's a pretty grey and easy to the touch. So we make some turns in the corral, me riding bareback.

That was easy.

 

The next horse is a bay gelding. He's a different story. Very skittish and unsettled. The trick with the hackamore isn't working. So Deets gets the bridle and bit and the saddle as well. Deets holds the bay as I am attaching first the bridle and then the saddle. The weight of the kack has him by surprise and he immediately tries to shake it off. I already saw that coming. Could feel the muscles of his back revolting against the weight. “Whoa, easy. Hush. Easy now.” I try to calm the young gelding. He's more like a colt still. As I am fix the cinch I have to poke his belly so he exhales to make sure the saddle sits tight. “That's nothing. Wait till I mount up.” I whisper into the geldings ear. Keeping my voice soft and steady.

 

I only wished I wouldn't draw so much attention. I know I have a reputation in breaking horses. But it's not so easy to maintain my calm and live up to it under Hitch's scrutinizing eyes. Anyway I have to get on with it and so I mount up. On my signal Deets lets go of the bridle and the bay crow-hops immediately. Then falls into bocking up but I manage to stay up and tire him down.

 

On of the palominos proves to be very irritated and I have to fall back on the methods I've seen our indian scout using. So I catch the mare and then first talking softly blow into her nose. Just a stead soft blow. I am amazed that this always does the trick.

By the end of the day I do have some bruises. Yes, I am thrown off occasionally. But in the end all horses are broken in and ready for our journey.

 

It's mid August now and high time for Hitch and me to pack up and leave Austin for the Texan-New Mexican border.

We will have to press on to make it in time. Despatches between Governor Pease and General Carlton pinning us down to a certain arrival time.

It's not very much to my liking. As one can never say what happens when out on the range. But it can't be helped this time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Everett_

 

Departure day has arrived. I have to admit that I too am left with a strange feeling. Riding out side by side with Woodrow and so many people are flanking the streets of Austin to witness our leave.

The weirdest thing of all however is the fact that Gus and the boys stay behind. We are passing the Ranger station on our way out as we are setting off from the City Hall. There the governor gives us a few more instructions and holds a short speech on the importance of our mission. Politicians!

 

At the Ranger station the boys and Gus are lining up and sort of salute as we are riding by. Gus breaks ranks and rushes over and he walks with us for a while down the road to the river.

He mainly speaks to me. Telling me that I am in safe hands travelling out on the range with Woodrow as my compadre. For Woodrow is a cautious man. I nod, feeling my throat going all tight. I know that the words Gus is speaking are actually meant for Woodrow. Urging him to be careful and to make sure that we return safely.

 

But then we reach the banks of the Colorado river and start crossing over. Gus stays behind on the other bank. Our route is fairly simple. Follow the Colorado river upstream in Northwesterly direction to Fort Mason. From there again to the North-west all along the river until we reach Fort Chadbourne.

At Fort Chadbourne we have to replenish all our resources to prepare for the crossing of the Llano Estacado into New Mexico. We are expected to meet with General James H. Carlton and Colonel Christopher “Kit” Carson in Fort Bascom. Have to be there by late October latest.

 

The route through the Stakes is the most dangerous part of our journey. This is not only down to the fact that we are crossing indian territory. Gladly Woodrow has been there several times before. Even crossed it on foot once. So at least one of us is prepared for the danger that awaits us.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Woodrow_

 

Gus is walking between Hitch and myself rambling on to be careful. In a way I am a bit sorry to leave him behind. As long as I know Gus we have been riding together. Have been through some adventures and always managed to survive no matter what fate had thrown at us. Leaving him behind now feels a bit like not taking your good luck charm with you. From his ramblings I take that he feels the same. He is just as worried as I am. However, I have responsibility for Hitch. He has never been to this part of our country and I am determined to get him there and back all safe and sound.

 

The first part of our journey should be fairly easy as Fort Mason is only a few days ride away. The only tricky part is the rise up onto the Edward's Plateau. But I am quietly confident that we will manage without problems.

We are now crossing the Colorado at the ford near Austin. On the other river bank I stop and turn. I wave Gus a good-bye and see that Hitch does the same. Good lad.

 

Then we turn our horses to the right and riding into the green and lush Colorado river valley. This we have to cross until we reach the plateau. Hitch and I have agreed to mount up onto the Edward's Plateau as fast as possible. So we spur our horses on to make it up there before night fall.

 

However the weather is turning bad on us and by late afternoon we are glad to be wrapped up in our Fish. The heavens is throwing all kinds on us, rain, hail even snow mixed in. The wind picks up and we are changing plans. Setting course further west to find shelter for the night. I know that near Fredericksburg is Fort Martin Scott. It's no longer used by the army but we rangers camp there from time to time as need be.

So we are pressing on and before nightfall arrive. I was sure it would provide us with shelter from the brewing storm and thankfully it isn't to far off route to delay us.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Fort Martin Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch and Call waiting out a storm at Fort Martin Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.
> 
> A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 2]   (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17/Adult

Word Count: 1785

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


_ Everett _

 

That storm nails us to Fort Martin Scott for three days. However, being all by ourselves feels good and we know how to entertain each other.

On top of it it's warm as we have a nice fire going and a roof over our head. At first we were thinking of using one of the officer's room but they are so tiny. So we stay in the main hall by the fireplace soogans locked together for comfort. We have not had much chance to be together like this when in Austin. At the Ranger's station there is a shared dormitory and we could hardly disappear into the same hotel room. So we are cherishing the togetherness during this journey.

 

And I can't say that I have reason to complain. Woodrow is very attentive. Not to say playful. I am surprised I admit. I have never thought this of him. There is also a variation to our play. So far it has been me to bottom always. But Woodrow insists that he wants us to switch places regularly. Am slightly nervous about this as I have never topped before but always been on the receiving end. Now topping makes me desperately shy. However Woodrow is sweet and helps me to overcome.

 

Woodrow gently directs me, teaches me. Uses my hand first and I shudder as my finger glides inside him and I feel his heat. It arouses me as well. I have never thought but it is as if I can feel it inside myself as well. Everything I am doing to him I can feel. For I clearly remember how it feels for he has done it to me. I begin to enjoy this.

 

He moves his hips and I automatically slide in deeper. He moans but then tells me to use two fingers. Now, I hesitate at first but his hands are there to guide me. Showing me how to do it.

I always fear to hurt him. Especially when I feel that first resistance but he urges me on. “Apply more pressure until the resistance breaks.” He tells me and I do and my fingers slide inside.

 

He shows me how to move my fingers and where to find his sweet spot. I rub my fingers against and he arcs up grinding his teeth. Suddenly he grabs me and pulls me towards him. My fingers slip out as my hand breaks contact. He kisses me and rolls onto his back pulling me on top of him. He opens his legs and wraps them around me like tongs.

 

Woodrow tilts his pelvis up and taking my boner in his hand smears the oil we have packed for these occasions all around my hard-un. He makes sure I watch. Then he pours some oil in my palm and moves it between his buttocks. I am dripping the oil all over his bottom and he has to stir me gently and pushes my slicked fingers inside again. Then he moves me closer and I withdraw my fingers. He stirs me until I am in the right position. “Now.” He says with this husky voice of his. “Do just as you did with your fingers. Ignore the first resistance. Push hard until your bulb is inside.”

 

I do as told but as soon as I am inside he stops me. Asks me to wait and hold the position. After a brief pause I can feel how his muscles around my dick slacken, pulsing around my painfully swollen shaft. I bite down on my lip. I never have expected it to feel like this. I can't bear it any longer and begin to wriggle. Pushing myself deeper inside him. There is this thought popping up in my head. I want to bury myself deeper and deeper in him and never ever leave.

 

He is so hot to the touch. It feels like a burning fire and I am consumed entirely. This all drives me over the edge. He senses that I can't hold back much longer and takes my hand in his and wanks himself off.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Woodrow_

 

We are riding into Fort Martin Scott and I can see at first glance that we have the place to us. Some of the buildings are in need of repair. But there is a fine stable we can use for the horses and in the main building there is a huge fireplace that will warm us up nicely.

 

I show Everett around. We have a look at the officers quarters but I immediately discard them as too small. At least for the kind of activity I have in mind. “Come on, Rett. That is too small. Let's go down to the main hall and stay there.”

I have the fire running in no time and with the security that the front door is firmly locked and barricaded I begin to undress. Despite the Fish my pants and the chinks are damp. I pull a twine out of my pack and tie it to the hooks by the fireplace. I am throwing my wet stuff on it and Hitch soon follows with his wet stuff.

 

We spread our soogans on the rag in front of the fire but away from the dripping clothes. I sit on and stretch myself. I can feel Hitch's eyes on me. Come on over what are you waiting for?

 

He seems to have read my mind for he comes and sits next to me. But we are both hungry and our bellies rumble in duet. So we get our chuck out and have our fill. Whilst I am putting away the left overs and clean our tack, Hitch is shaking the crumbs of the soogans. Quick thinking, nothing worse than rubbing oneself sore on bread crumbs.

 

All this done we have time to settle down. So we are sitting side by side and cuddle at first. I can feel him wanting more and see that he prepares himself for me. But this time I interrupt him. “Rett, I want you to top.” I say and very unexpectedly he blushes bright crimson red.

He's 'fessing up that he never topped before.

I tend to forget how young he still is. Looks and behaves so much more mature.

 

I lean to him and kiss him. Run my hands over his body in long strokes. When I break the kiss I look into his face and smile. “There is nothing to worry. I show you. Do you trust me?” He nods.

I take his right hand in mine and move it between my legs pulling him to my side as I lower myself on the quilts.

 

I reach for his fingers and put them into my mouth. Sucking them gently and make sure that there is enough saliva on them when I pull them out. He responds with a soft moan which is nice.

I take the middle finger of his right hand and press it against my anus. I can feel him faltering. “Don't worry. It's fine. I'm fine.” I say and force his hand to put more pressure onto my opening.

Finally the muscles in my arse relax and his finger slides inside. He gasps and I move my hips to feel him up inside me. Hmmm, that feels good.

 

I move his hand back and forward in the same rhythm as I move my bum. And with my free hand pull him close for another kiss. I can feel him harden. “Does that feel good for you too?” I whisper into his ear and he swallows hard and nods.

 

“Now put two fingers inside.” I tell him and he hesitates. “Don't worry. It will not hurt me.” I reach for his hand again and pull his middle finger out to add his index finger to the game. Again there is this slight hesitation before he pushes inside me. OOOH, yes.

I move my pelvis around a bit so that his fingertips reach my sweet spot. “AAAH. Yes, there. Press a bit harder against that spot. OOOOOH. Like that.” I gasped for breath and can't speak for a moment as his fingers hit the spot.

I can see how the pink tip of his tongue flickers over his lips making them shining and pink with moisture. Finally I find my voice again and I tell him to spread his fingers apart to widen me. “You have to prepare me.” I explain. He blushes and looks very cute.

“Come here. Kiss me.” I whisper and he leans over and our lips lock again.

 

My hand forces his to move the fingers in my arse and when he breaks the kiss I ask him to curl them inside me. He does and I arch up biting my lips but the moan escapes my chest despite the effort.

 

I need him to enter me now properly as I can feel that I hardly can contain myself. So I roll onto my back and pull him onto me in the process. I move him between my legs and clasp them around his slim form. I reach for the oil I have packed for these occasions and spilling a handful into my palm begin to apply it onto his erection. Then I pull his fingers out of me and make him form a grove with his hand. There I pour another portion of oil and make him rub it onto my anus.

 

Bottle safely corked and stashed away I reach out for his hips and move him into position. “Remember just as you done with your fingers. Ignore the resistance and push forcefully until the head is inside me.” He sweats and nods and I have to lead him on a little as he slips away a few times. Finally he's inside and I ask him to wait.

  
I have to hold my breath for a moment but can feel myself relax again. But poor Hitch comes completely undone and so I push my pelvis forward until he's buried to the shaft. I reach for his hand and with my guidance wank myself off as he comes inside me.

 

We are both rolling over panting hard. As soon as I catch my breath I lean in for a kiss and whisper “that was mighty good for a first timer.”

 

The storm outside keeps us pinned for three days but neither I nor Rett are givin' a damn. Being occupied with nicer things.

For a while I even manage to set aside my worries and forget about the mission ahead. Feels good for a change.

  


 

 

 

 


	3. On the Red River Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two set off from Fort Martin Scott towards Loyal Valley.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 3]  (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1260

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

  


_ Everett _

 

I'm enjoying Woodrow's attention and am very sorry that after three days the sun comes out.

Preparing my stuff for leaving after breakfast whilst he is checking on the horses. We've been lucky that nobody showed up during the last days as we were roaming about in our birthday suits for most of the time. Kissing, hugging and all other niceties. *blushes a little*

 

I love to be with him and for the first time I experience a relaxed Woodrow. Tensions in his shoulders are gone, frown wiped off his face. Actually he is almost smiling all day long. Heard him laugh open and heartily for the first time as well, not his usual cynical chuckle. There are many first times over the last three days.

 

*sighs* Start to pack my stuff to make ready for when we leave. Haven't heard Woodrow coming in. Find myself in his embrace suddenly. He nibbles at my neck.

“Are you going anywhere?” He asks me teasingly. I turn around seeing him looking at me with his eyebrow raised. Smile at him and hug him back. “I thought you want to push on.” I say, “Now that the rain stopped.”

 

He presses me closer. “No leaving for the next two days.” He says and at my quizzical look explains. “All gullies will be full of raving water. That will make travelling dangerous. We wait until most of the water is washed away.”

I blush. I had forgotten about the draws now all flooded with that rainwater. He's right to wait. I still have to familiarize myself with this country and its landscape.

 

He helps me unpacking again. I find myself turning towards him, looking at him again and again. He grins back at me every time our eyes cross. “I see you don't object.” He says chuckling and winking back at me. We let us fall down on our sleeping rolls in tight embrace. I shall be sad when we have to move on but these few precious days will be imprinted on my brain forever.

 

 

* * *

 

_ Woodrow _

 

On day three the rainstorm wanes and the sun comes out. After breakfast I go to check on our horses. When I come back I find Rett busy with packing up our tack. I sneak up on him from behind and wrap my arms around his lean frame. “What's the rush, Pard?” I ask and smile at his bewildered face. He explains that he thought that I would want us to press on.

 

I tell him that directly after those downpours all gullies will have turned into watery maelstroms and it's too dangerous by far to try to cross them just now. Also there will be quite a lot of them on our way north. “We are staying for two more days, lest you have an appointment you can't miss.” I joke winking at him and press him close against me. Feels good.

 

I hate it when he pulls away. But I give him a hand to unpack again. This done I grab him and launch us down onto the soogans. Get him out of his kit. Kissing him all over. Planing kisses on each little bit of his skin. Claim him for myself again.

He's yielding voluntarily and I take him into my mouth. My hands moving under his hips to lift him up. I hear him inhale deeply and exhale with a moan.

Oh, how I wished we could just stay here. Just the two of us.

I lift his pelvis further up until I can stroke my tongue through the cleft in his bum. Arresting myself at his opening to push my tongue against his quivering muscle.

 

He gasps and pushes his pelvis up further. I harden my tongue and push with more force until his muscle relaxes and my tongue slides inside his hot body.

I know I can't penetrate far enough to reach his sweet spot that way but I wiggle my tongue until a muscle reflex pushes me out of his body.

He's covered in sweat by now and I too am as hard as iron.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Everett _

 

Two days later we are out leaving Fort Martin Scott behind. Woodrow follows the old Red River/Rio Grande Trail. We have a short stop in Cherry Springs. But Woodrow pushes on and we are leaving northward soon, heading for Loyal Valley.

It's dark when we arrive and camp on the porch of the Lehmann's.

 

Auguste Lehmann is greeting us with a loaded gun. But as soon as the light of the lantern lights up Woodrow's face she puts the gun away. She declines to let us inside the house however. Explains that her husband Moritz is very ill and she fears he might be contagious. But we are offered the room above the stables. I can't say that I complain for this way I have Woodrow to myself again.

 

We ignore the small cod but lean it to the wall to create a bit more space before spreading out our bed rolls. Soon I feel Woodrow's warm skin pressed to my back. But we are too tired for play. However, I make a mental note to have some in the morning before my eyes fall shut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Woodrow _

 

I could slap myself. Why haven't I thought of this place earlier? It's close enough to Austin and at the same time far enough away and generally unused. Especially with the reduced numbers of us rangers here in the West. Ideal to be used as a hide away. I shall remember this place when we are stationed in Austin for a longer spell next. For Hitch and I shall have the Fort to us.

 

During our way to Cherry Springs I am telling Rett. He only smiles but doesn't comment.

I have to press on trying to make some ground for the clock is ticking on us. Also have to check on the settlers on our route North. Might hold us up as well. But gov'nor Pease instructions are clear. Check on them make sure they feel looked after. With our diminished numbers it's hard enough to keep an eye on the vast frontier and the complaints of indian or other rogues attacks are flowing in fast.

So it's a short stop to check on the German community in Cherry Springs. But no troubles here for the time being.

 

After a late lunch we break up heading on. I hope to reach Loyal Valley. We surely will arrive today but it's way after nightfall in the end. Auguste is greeting us with the shotgun in hand. But drops it and smiles as soon as she recognises me. Good girl, always ready to defend themselves. I enquire after Moritz and she saddens. I learn that Moritz's health is deteriorating fast over the last couple of months. I don't say a word but I'm sure he's dying of consumption.

 

Am glad Auguste is refusing to have us in the house. The barn is good enough for Rett and me. As all life stock is locked away over night, we take our horses into some empty bays. Then we retire into the vacant stablehand's room above. Creating some room for our soogans we soon cuddle up together and I am watching on as Rett's breathing lengthens and regulars out. He's asleep.

I brush my lips against the rim of his ear. Pulling him closer and with a contended sigh close my eyes.

  
  
  


 

  
  



	4. On the Trail to Fort Mason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canal and Hitch leave the Farm of Auguste and Moritz Lehmann.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 4]  (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1215

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

  


_ Everett _

 

I was awake before break of day and feel Woodrow's hand on my thigh. “Are you awake?” I whisper and receive a kiss on the outer rim of my ear as a reply. I roll around to face him and his hand which he didn't moved lands conveniently on my bum. So I stick it out a bit to enhance the contact.

  
He moves over leaning in and kisses me. I am running my hand along his face, over the shoulder and along his body down as far as I can reach. He smiles at me and grabs my bum firmly, squeezing me a bit and I can feel the response in my loin. I am sure he can feel my poker against his belly and sure enough his hand leaves my bum and reaches out to the front.

 

My breath is getting laboured as he pushes his hand between my legs and I try to open them for better access but the tight soogan limits my movement. “Who's to top?” I ask him but he quiets me by pushing his tongue into my mouth.

Then I am grabbed by two strong hands and rolled on top of him. As he breaks the kiss he says, “Open those ties.” And I untie the soogan which gives us more room to manoeuvre. He sits me in his lap, holding my bum in place and at the same time pulls my upper body towards him. I can feel his finger sliding inside me and I give a little hiss for pleasure.

 

He then enters two and three fingers. I am wiggling rubbing my balls against his and having a sword fight with our boners. He moves me up and sits me done on his wood taking mine into his firm hand. His legs are bend and supported my back as I leaned back moving my pelvis in circular moves. I reach behind me between his legs and digging with my fingers until I find his entrance. I push my fingers deep inside and he comes bringing me off as well.

 

I am glad that Auguste Lehmann is too busy with taking care of her husband Moritz to notice how cautious Woodrow and I mount up into the saddles. We look at each other grinning and slowly, very slowly ride out of Loyal Valley. Fort Mason is just a day's ride away, Woodrow tells me.

 

 

* * *

 

Woodrow

 

I wake up and as Everett seems to be still asleep I very cautiously and slow I moved my hand over his thigh. Immediately Rett whispered “Are you awake?” I answered with a kiss on his ear.

He rolls around in my arms facing me. I leave my hand and we rub skin on skin as he moves. Nice feeling and I get hot and hard. As soon as he faces me I can feel that he is hard too. I move my hand between us and reach for his hard-un squeezing him. Leaning in to kiss him.

 

I roll him on me and we go for a little ride. But he surprises me and does me with is fingers at he same time. Blows my patience straight away. Good thing that this gets him going and so we are coming almost simultaneously.

 

We get what we deserve when we mount up, very slowly. I see him grinning and can't help but return the favour. So we ride out. Fort Mason is only a day's ride away actually even shorter if we don't run into trouble. Auguste told me the evening before that indian raids are pestering the settlers. Since the war the border land of West Texas was gone wild again and most of the forts lie abandonned as the troops fight in the East either for the Greys or the Blues.

 

With Fort Mason it is just the same. All the troops have left with the start of the battles. On our way to the Fort I try to stay on the defence line. All land west of this line has been reclaimed by the savages which mainly is all the western border land.

On our way toward Fort Mason we pass burnt out farms with freshly dug graves. I thought we would find the fort empty just like all the others but when we ride in we are greeted by a bunch of settlers. We learn that they had come to the fort to seek shelter from the ongoing raids by indians which are pestering all West Texas.

 

Four men approach us obviously spokespeople for the settlers and hand me some papers. It is a petition but I hand them back. “Get these to Austin.' I say,”We are going in the opposite direction. No use to hand it to me.” The men stare in disbelieve at Hitch and me. But I only shrug telling them that we are heading for the New Mexican border. They gasp. One of them steps forward, “You are aware Captain Call,” he addresses me, “that you are heading for trouble. The Kiowa and Comanche decided to go on the warpath. That's why you find us here and why we need troops in this Fort. We need protection.”

 

I look around, see the fear in the faces of women and children and some of the men. My heart aches seeing their hopes crushed like this. But there is nothing I can do. Hitch and I will stay the night and then ride on. We have an appointment to keep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Riding into Fort Mason enhances the nasty surprise we experience on our way. I can see Woodrow tense again as we are riding past still smouldering ruins of what once were running farms. Someone has been here shortly before us, dug graves for the people killed during the attack. The mounds are looking fresh.

 

At Fort Mason we are greeted by settlers who have gathered at the fort for their protection. Some men come forward and handing Woodrow some documents which he instantaneously returns after having thrown a quick look at them. He looks at me and then declares that they need to hand the petition which is what the document is, in to the governor at Austin. Tells them that we are riding to the North-west to the New Mexican border and not back to Austin.

 

The men reminded us that we are riding out into the lions den. I begin to worry a little myself now. Especially as the next part of our journey will see us camping out in the open until we reach Fort Chadbourne.

 

The prospect of spending the next nights out on the range pestered with raiding indians holds little joy. For it automatically means that Woodrow and I have to set up watches and can't spent the night cuddled up to each other in our quilts.

I feel some sort of annoyance creeping up in me at the fact that tonight we have to share our quarter with the settlers which of course will force Woodrow and me to sleep separately.

I only hope that we will find a place where we can set up our beds which is undisturbed of the families crowding the fort.

 

  


 


	5. Westward Ho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their next leg leads them to the West. They are hoping to reach the Presidio San Saba.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 5]  (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1432

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


 

_ Everett _

 

Soon after our arrival at Fort Mason Woodrow sits down to write a report whilst I go and check out where we can set up our quarters for the night.

When I come back Woodrow is telling the men they should get their petition and his report to Austin as fast as possible. An old man with a mule comes forward and grinning his toothless grin tells Woodrow that he's taking the post. The settlers confirm that the old prospector is delivering the mail to Fredericksburg. “He's doing it ever since the raids began.” They explain.

 

I can only but grin at the old toothless toad. He grins back hopping up and down like a looney crooning as he explains how he sneaks out at night to travel and hiding with his mule throughout the day. He totally cracks up with his laughter sounding like the clucking of chicken over their eggs. It takes a little effort to grasp that he is doing this twice each week out and back.

I assume that even if the old looney had travelled throughout daytime the indians would have left him alone. For I've been told that many of the prairie tribes belief madmen either to be possessed by evil spirits which can be transferred by contact and therefore would avoid him or consider him a holy man and seer.

 

Woodrow hands his report to the old croon and then turns to me. “Found a place?” He asks and I shrug. “Only place not occupied is the stables.” I say. He walks with me to check but with all the horses there isn't much room. So he shakes his head.

We finally find a space to spread out our beds in one of the barns on a half empty hayloft. We will have the loft to ourselves but the floor below is occupied by six families.

 

As soon as darkness falls we retreat to our lofty bedroom. I haven't spread out our soogans and it proves to be a good thing too, as Woodrow began to create a small space raising the bales of hay. Before I can lend him a hand he has created a little room walling the hay bales up so that we are out of sight from them below.

 

As we are leaving early next morning we are not going to participate in the night watch. This is left to the settlers. I trust that Woodrow will be up before light of dawn and wake me as I proof to be the one who sleeps longer. I think it is due to me being younger than Woodrow and therefore still in need for more sleep.

 

Woodrow has told me that our next stop is not on the Rio Grand/Red River Trail anymore. But lies further West. It will take us about five days to reach. He chuckles as I am pulling a face thinking of camping outside. Not that I mind normally but the fact that we might run into indian wearing war colours is not very attractive. “Cinch-up.” Woodrow says and pats my shoulder.

He consoles me by mentioning that if we are lucky we find that the former presidio San Saba near the San Saba river might still stand, if so we can find shelter there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

With the prospect of having my first report delivered back to Austin I am sitting down to write it. Rett is going to find us a place to sleep in the meantime.

The settlers introducing me to an old prospector who has taken up the office of delivering the mail to Fredericksburg. The old man is clear a bit funny in the head but as long as he manages to get through unharmed by the indian I have no complaints.

 

Rett comes back opting for us to sleep in the stable but it's too cramped with all the horses and life stock in there. So we have another look and I finally find a place on the hayloft of one of the barnes. The settlers are very nervous and I give them a drill in firing and help them setting up a night watch parole.

 

The settlers want to provide us with fresh food but on our voyage it will be impossible to store and keep fresh so I decline. Also I am telling them that they best ration their supplies as for the time being it is unclear how long they might be trapped in Fort Mason. Rett and I retire as soon as it's getting dark as we have to leave early. Before laying out the soogans I am fixin' to build a sheltering wall from the bales of hay. We can't speak much as even whispering can be heard by the people below. But thanks to the hay we are out of eyeshot and so we are cuddling up against each other.

 

But we are both too tired to make out and so we just spoon and soon the heaviness of sleep gets to me.

 

Early next morning I wake Rett with a kiss and he blinks at me, rubs his eyes and then smiles. We get up fixin' to pack our tack before we climb down the ladder and leave the barn, carefully not to step on any of the sleepers on the ground floor.

Rett grabs the canteens for a refill from the well and I am off to fetch our horses from the stable. The night watch men see us out and shut the gate after us. I can only hope that they are all safe until they get their answer from Austin.

 

With our horses falling into a lope I hope Rett and I will make enough ground before the sun comes up. If we are lucky we can reach the Presidio San Saba. There in the ruins of the old mission I hope we can spent the day before we are setting off again after sun set. Luckily I do know the range well so there is no trouble to travel after dark. If the luck stays on our side we reach the River Concho before daybreak in three days. There we need to find a place to hide throughout the day and I am not yet sure what I will find at all.

 

I pray that the gullies are dry again so that we don't have to face to much river crossing on the way.

After leaving the Concho behind the possibility of coming across any settlement are minimal.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

We are mainly riding out at night. The first night after leaving Fort Mason we are heading for Presidio San Saba. It's more or less pitch black but Woodrow seems to know exactly where he is heading to. I truly wonder how he makes out which direction to go. One can hardly see a landmark in the faint light of the waxing moon.

 

“I wonder, how you can know where to go? Are you looking to the stars?” I ask him and at the same time check the dark skies. I cannot see him smiling but I hear it in his voice. “This is my home.” He says, “This is the part of Texas I have grown up in. I know it better than my pocket.”

 

I feel his hand on my arm as he stops. I can see him in the faint moonlight taking his hat down and scratch his left temple. I see him turn towards me. What he says hits me like a hammer.

“Somehow you seem to have lost your Arkansaw accent.” He says. I feel so comfortable in his presence that I have completely forgotten. I swallow hard. But his hand still resting on my arm squeezes me gently. “Not that I mind. But you have to be careful when we meet others. That's all I say.” He adds and the smile still carries in his voice.

 

For a moment I hold my breath. I have utterly forgotten to stick to my incognito and he's looking through my disguise, I know. Knows me for the liar I am. And I know that I have no reason to hide anymore. At least not towards him.

Trying to tell him who I really am and why I had to tell a lie, but he stops me. “No need. You can tell me another time.” He says. “We need to hurry now.”

With this he spurs his horse and I do likewise falling in behind.

  


 


	6. The truth comes out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call gets Hitch to confess his true identity.  
> The two intercept a band of deserters.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 6]   (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

 

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Violence

Word Count: 1300

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

Rett has let his guard slip and what I suspected has come true. He has revealed himself to be a true Unionist. The way he speaks indicates that he is a true-born Northerner. I do understand that him lying was to protect himself. At last Texas is a member of the Confederacy.

 

We have to hurry up in an hour the light will come out and we are still out in the open. I hope that Rett can keep up as I spur my horse into a lope. I turn around to check on him several times but he's doin' all right.

Rett has tried to reveal himself to me but I have stopped him as we have to press on. As soon as we reach Presidio San Saba there hopefully will be time enough for that. I guess.

 

The horizon is turning grey and I can see the ruins standing black against the lightening sky. I can see Rett staring out and then his heels dig the flanks of his mare. We are riding side by side but then I stop him suddenly.

I signal him to dismount. I am sure I have seen the flicker of a fire within the ruins. Rett must have seen it as well for he nods and ties his mount's reins to a tumbling weed bush. I do the same and then fixin' to get my binoculars.

Rett and I carefully and as silent as possible approach the ruins of the Presidio.

 

We stay in the shadow of the adobe wall of the old mission. Through a gap in the walls we throw a glance. Around a fire there are several men in uniforms. The flickering light uncovers scraggy faces.

“Deserters?!” Rett whispers to me and I nod for the look of the ragged uniforms suggests as much.

“Confederates.” I whisper back.

No matter what, this is bad news for these guys will be desperate and therefore will be extremely dangerous.

 

Carefully we retreat and then have a little pow-wow. “What are we to do?” Rett asks. The Presidio is the only shelter around. This leaves us with only two options.

“They will attack us when they realise that we are with the rangers.” I say. “So we can take our chances and move on risking to be spied by the indians. OR, fight against the deserters for the right to take shelter at the Presidio.”

 

“If we fight the deserters,” Rett asks, “will that not give us away to the indians too if there are bands around?”

“Possibly. Unless …,” I have to think for a moment. “Unless?” Rett is curious and makes me grin with is impatience.

“Unless we manage to lure them out one by one and make away with them in a more silent fashion.” I say.

 

“You mean killing them?” Rett asks me and I confirm.

I can see that the idea of killing these men is not a pleasant thought for him.

“They forfeit their right to live when they deserted,” I say, “As soon as the army get their hands on them they will be sentenced to death anyway.”

Rett contemplates this for a moment but I can see that he's not happy with the idea still.

“It's us or them, Rett.” I am stressing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

It's close to dawn when we reach the old Spanish mission at the River San Saba and we are spurring our mounts hoping for rest and shelter within.

We haven't gone far when Woodrow stops me suddenly with his arm stretched out before my breast. But I too have seen the flickering light inside the ruin. We leave our horses behind to check who is occupying our hide away.

  
Woodrow is fishing his binoculars out of the saddlebag but we are staying in the shadows of the walls and manage to crawl up quite close. Inside the mission we see four men sitting around a fire.

Their grey uniforms are in tatters which suggests that they are deserters. We can see that they are armed.

 

Woodrow signals me to retreat and as soon as we are out of sight and earshot we are sitting down to decide what to do. Woodrow makes it pretty clear that we have only two options either risk our lives by moving on in broad daylight with the possibility to loose our hair as he puts it or to fight the deserters for the shelter.

 

I wonder if the fighting for the shelter will not draw the indians as well giving our shelter away. He agrees but then suggests that we draw them out one by one and kill them silently.

The fact of killing those men isn't sitting right with me but Woodrow is right. It is either us or them.

 

I wonder how we manage to get them out one by one and Woodrow asks me if I have seen them having chuck. I can't remember having seen the men roasting something on their fire and their haughty faces rather suggest that they haven't eaten in a while.

 

So the plan is to lure them out by imitating animal calls. Woodrow is able to imitate some of the wild birds inhabiting these part and I can do an almost decent turkey call.

This leaves us to hope that they will respond to our lure by appearing one after the other and not all at once and that they refrain from using their fire-arms.

 

We split up as we sneak up to the Presidio again. Woodrow stays near the river bed whilst I come from the land-inward side. I draw my knife as I slowly rob closer. There is a gully nearby in which I let myself drop. It is close enough to carry my voice over to the band of men.

I sigh deeply and start to gobble. I am peering out of my hiding place to see if my calls lead to an action. Then I repeat the gobbles. Soon enough one of the men shows his head clearly listening. Trying to figure out from which direction my calls are coming.

 

I peer out and see him turning towards his mates saying something before he crawls out of the walls towards me. I prepare myself and as soon as he pokes his head over the rim of the gully I grab him by his throat, dragging him down into the gully stifling his cry and slide my knife through his throat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Rett is going land-inwards whilst I am crawling down hiding in the grass reed at the river bank. As soon as I have found a position near the water that is close enough to the mission I start the high pitched preep-preep calls of a male green winged teal duck followed by the sharp quack of the female in response.

 

I have to carry-on for a while before I get the first reaction from the Presidio. A man's head is popping out of one of the window frames and then climbing out, walks over to the river. I repeat the calls and he adjusts his approach entering the grass reed.

 

I wait until he is almost by the river but still covered by the grass. Then I strike.

After a short struggle I have him in a tight grasp and drag him down into the water. I press his face underwater and he starts struggling. I keep him underwater until the struggling stops and the bubbling air out of his mouths ends. He floats slightly under the surface and I give his corpse a push so he drifts out into mid-river and the current catches him and washes him away.

 

  


 

 


	7. Dishing up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch has yet to confess who he really is.

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 7]**   (crossposted to meduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Violence

Word Count: 1178

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

I close in on the mission's ruin. I'm almost out of the reeds when I hear a sound close by. Instinctively I duck down and see a man's shadow passing. So I turn around and follow him down to the river again.

The guy in front of me turns around, he must have heard the rustling of the grass. So I sprint forward and ram my knife right into his voice box. He gurgles and I pull the knife out and stab him in the chest.

 

He stares at me wide eyed, hand at his bleeding throat. His knees give in slightly and I grab him and smash my knife into his neck like a bullfighter does with a bull. His limbs go soft and he slumps on the ground.

I grab him by his feet and drag him to the river. Setting him out like a boat. A push and he's gone.

 

This guy has created a path through the reeds when coming from the mission and I run up that path now until I reach the Presidio's walls. Another man's head pops out of the window and I hit his throat with the small of my hand. We wrestle and I pull him out of the window in the process. He more or less falls into my knife which has pierced his lungs. He pulls it out but I manage to get a hold of his own. He stares at my knife in his hand and I cut his throat with his own.

 

I'm quite exhausted now and retrieving my knife from his hand crawl through the window inside. At the opposite wall I signal Rett the all clear and I can see him fixin' to set off to fetch our horses.

 

Rett arrives with the horses and we use our canvasses and coats to make frames to prevent the fire's light to being seen from afar.

Then we are getting rid to the two remaining bodies. I have checked each body for some sort of identification and the last two men are stripped of their belts as I have found their names and addresses scratched into the back of the buckle. Then Rett and I sending them afloat. I know that the bodies will not get far but fall prey to the wildlife around of the San Saba river.

 

I tuck the belts away as I will need them later for my report and as evidence when I am handing the report in at Fort Chadbourne. The other two guys had no identification on them so I am going through their tack and indeed find one's on a piece of paper stitched to the back of his coat and the other one's inside his knapsack.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

My goggling has attracted a turkey and as none of the men inside the walls seems to be attracted, I am going for the turkey hen I lured.

I just manage to get her when Woodrow appears at the mission's entrance and waves me to come. I tuck the turkey to my belt and go to get our horses. When I enter the Presidio I find Woodrow sitting by the fire with the reporting journal in his lap and several items belonging to the deserters at his hands. He makes notes in the journal and as I approach I see that he has written a report on the encounter and making notes of the deserters identities.

 

He asks me to lend him a hand with the distribution of the two remaining corpses which he plans to dump into the river. We are making use of one of the deserters mules for the task. This done Woodrow cuts down some canes of reed and back at the mission he ties those canes into a frame structure creating some sort of room dividers. He places them so around the fire place that they create a room in the room. I understand that he uses them to block the light of the fire in the Presidio so that it can't be seen from afar. This is very clever as we had spotted the fire way back when approaching the ruin, now nobody can see the shine against the stone walls or our shadows.

 

Woodrow received a few minor cuts and abrasions when fighting with the deserters, which I quickly see to before producing the turkey to singe off the feathers before roasting the bird.

Whilst preparing our food Woodrow finished his report before giving me a helping hand with the cooking. I ask him what he's planning to do with the deserters' property and I can't help but have to chuckle seeing him raising one eyebrow, looking at me.

“This all, horses, mules and the tack is property of the Confederate Army. “ He says and makes it quite clear that he intends to hand all over at Fort Chadbourne.

 

We are eating in silence and afterwards put our bedrolls out. And suddenly it dawns me that the frames are not only meant to block the fire's light but also will shield the light from outside so that we will be able to sleep without being blinded by the sun.

 

The horses and mules we hog-tie and keep them within the walls of the former mission yard. There they are out of sight and can feed and rest. Woodrow checks the well and after finding that it still carries water, fills one of the stone troughs for the watering of our animals.

  
We then retreat into the ruined mission building again. We undress and crawl into our bed. Snuggled up against me Woodrow suddenly says: “Do you want to tell me now who you really are?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Rett is preparing the turkey he caught for our supper and as soon as the bird is ready we sit down together to eat. We lay out our soogans and then tend to the horses. We need to make sure that they stay within the compound so we hog-tie them so they can't leave the mission yard.

 

I check the well and fill the stone trough next to it with water so that the animals can drink if they wish.

As soon as we have seen to our duty towards our mounts we retire to the mission building and get ready to sleep.

 

Only when we are cuddled up I drop the bomb shell, asking him if he wants to tell me who he really is. I turn around to face him. “You're from the North. I can hear it clearly.” I say calmly. “And I understand that you didn't wanted to end up in a POW camp. Therefore the fake identity. But now just between us two. Who are you really? And what brings you to Texas?”

 

He looks me in the face but remains silent for a while and I just wait. Give him time to sort his thoughts. I am sure that this time he will not dish me another lie.

  


 


	8. The truth and nothing but

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch confesses his real background.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 8]  (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: None

Word Count: 1370

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Everett

 

It takes me some time to think through what I should tell him. Can I risk to reveal the full truth to him? How will he react? I decide to take it slowly and go with his reactions. Just then he says that he does understand why I had been lying.

Oh boy, if only you knew.

 

I take a deep breath and look at him. He's waiting patiently for me to start. That makes it even worse. I swallow hard, clear my throat.

Have a tight knot in my guts. Never felt so bad; want desperately to tell him all but am afraid.

“I am Everett Hitch. Didn't lie about my name. I was born in New York to a family with an army tradition. That was the reason why I was sent to West Point Academy just like my dad and his dad before.”

 

“So you are an officer.” He cuts in, sounding more curious than angry. Gives me hope that.

I nod. “Yes, I had been an officer.” I shrug. “Not sure if I am still. For they changed everything to fit my incognito and my orders.” He cocks up that eyebrow of his again but waits for me to carry on.

I really struggle. “After leaving West Point as a Lieutenant, the Federal Army assigned me to a commando in the Indian Wars.” Woodrow nods indicating that he is still listening.

 

“You see,” I try to explain. “Those Indian wars started way before that darn Civil War. And being commanded to those Western Corps meant that I wasn't called out to fight against the Confederates.”

“And yet here you are.” Woodrow states, “So what changed?”

I blush.

 

“I learnt to speak the indian dialects. It somehow came easy to me and I can't say why.” I look at him but his eyes are fixed on me. “So these guys approached me.” I continue. “Asking me if I was willing to support my country. As if I wasn't doin' that already.” I scratch my head. “They said, that I had to leave my life behind. Forget about my family.” Now he is scratching his beard but remains silent. “Shortly before I was approached by these guys, my father and I had a bitter row. He accused me of wasting my time in the West. That I wasn't progressing in my career fighting indians. He wanted me to quit and instead join the Federal Army fighting against the «Rebels». His words, not mine.” I rush to cut in feeling awkward fearing he might be offended by the term.

“Dad said, that I would make a career, climb up the ranks faster if I signed up in the Civil War instead of staying in the West fighting indians.” Woodrow nods and says “He was right, though.”

I shrug in response. “All I know,” I say, “is that I was furious. So when those army guys came and asked me to sign up and join them I agreed. Just to annoy him. Those guys were responsible for creating my new identity, family history and all. I received language training to make sure I spoke with an Arkansas accent.”

 

“So what's about that woman you claimed to be your mother and that stepfather? Are they invented?” He asks and I am somewhat relieved that he is not digging deeper into my command.

“Yes and No.” I reply and seeing him looking very puzzled I explain. “Both woman and man existed but of course we weren't related.”

“What happened to them?” He suddenly stops me and his own line of thought with a worried frown on his forehead and shouts, “Damn! The governor.” Now I am puzzled.

“Rett, do you think he will find out? Have you ...”

I shake my head. “Can't say. But shouldn't. They made it all watertight.” I sigh again but have to smile seeing him sighing too.

“The woman and the man are both dead.” I confirm his worries and suddenly realise exclaim “OH NO, Woodrow!” I rush to explain. “They both died long before. She from drink and he some years earlier was caught cheating in a game of cards and shot in the brawl enfolding.”

He relaxes and I am glad. He obviously thought I had a hand in their demise.

 

I continue. “I think my last name which is quite common helped to find a suitable background for me. You know, your Rangers had or have a guy called Hitch.” Woodrow nods and smiles. “True.” He says, “Lee Hitch, funny chap. Real nice guy. Went to sign up with the Confederates in the early days. Wonder what happened to him. If he's still alive. Nice fella, really.”

  
Somehow I suddenly feel a little jealous and it must have shown on my face for Woodrow laughs and says “Don't worry. You're the only Hitch in my life.”

I blush crimson red and he pulls me close and kisses me. I move closer until our bodies touch. Open my mouth to allow our tongues to meet. I feel myself stirring. The tickling sensation between my legs as my poker stirs, throbs into life. I can't concentrate on my story anymore and I hope that Woodrow too is ready for some bedroll activity now.

 

I reach down with my hand groping him between his legs. He too is hot to the touch and quite hard.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Rett starts slowly beginning with confirming that Everett Hitch is actually his name. I can sense his tension, his fear. I try to make him feel comfortable and hope he relaxes. Try my best to make him loose his fear.

He carries on telling me that he's a New Yorker by birth and that he comes from a family with army background. He has been to the Military Academy in West Point. So he's an educated man from a well-to-do family. But that's not what I'm saying to him. Instead I state the fact that he is an officer. I keep my voice as neutral as possible and I can see that he's glad I'm not jumping in his face straight away. But I have no reason and apart from that I need to know more. I know that there is more to come. Then he says that he isn't so sure that he is an officer still. From the few remarks that are following I take it that he has signed up as a spy for the Federal Army.

 

He remains very vague and avoids to say what they have signed him up for. Never mentions the nature of his command. Something I still have to wiggle out of him.

 

However, he still is very anxious so I defer and ask about his coy family. I learn that the people mentioned were real but already dead when the Feds decided to use them. It's soon clear that Hitch never actually met them.

 

His account of the battles he participated in however is true but were planned meticulously to manifest his incognito and get him into the position from where he would start his assignment. Again he doesn't state what his orders are but rather defers again. I admit that I allow him to, to make him feel safe and to loosen him up. I even show some concern in regards of what the governor might find out about his past.

 

Then I'm pulling his leg a little by letting drop a remark about Lee Hitch and I can see that he hurts. So I take it back and say that he's the only Hitch in my life.

 

He blushes when noticing that I discovered his jealous fit. He always looks so cute when he blushes and I pull him close to kiss him. He opens his mouth willingly and offers himself to me. I can feel him getting all horny. That turns me on as well and instead of letting him continue with his story, we busy ourselves with activities of a more exciting nature.

 

  


 

 


	9. Another night on the range

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to Fort Chadbourne, Call needs to tickle information from Hitch and has other worries too.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 9]  (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: None

Word Count: 1290

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historical. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events or to the history of the real people mentioned. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

We are two days ride away from Fort Chadbourne. Tomorrow at dawn we will have to camp out in the open for the first time. But I know a place near the river junction where we will find some shelter.

My mind is still racing and so I find no rest. Rett is laying rolled up into a little ball by my side. His breath is rising and falling regularly. I envy him his ability to fall asleep where and when.

 

He very much scares about to reveal his true identity. Of course he is worried about what will happen. Fact is he's a spy for the Feds and this alone is a felony offence that can cost him his life.

I'm instructed to find out what his orders are. This will be a tough call as I want to make sure he's safe at the same time. But then again there is the small matters of my own orders. All this is racing through my head, depriving me of my sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Despite Woodrow being some what nervous and unrestful, I managed to get some sleep. When I woke he was finally at rest and I left him. Got up as gently as possibility not to wake him.

After I had a visit to the mission's privy, I checked on our horses and tended to the fire back inside the mission building.

I'm fix'n to get our meal cooking, as Woodrow would say. Speaking of which, he begins to stir as soon as the first smells of food waver through the room tickling his nostrils. I only hope they will not draw in any unwanted visitors.

 

Now that Woodrow is up I am sorting my mind to prepare myself for more questions about my commission. But Woodrow reappears washed and clean sitting down and we eat in silence. He looks very tired, which I take down due to his restless sleep.

He obviously is concerned about the next legs of our journey. I understand from his remarks that our stop at Fort Chadbourne in two days will be the last contact with civilisation. The majority of the journey will be through wild, dangerous country and the danger is not automatically down to the threat of the indian tribes on warpath through whose territory we have to travel.

 

This time we are riding out in the twilight of the evening. I take it that this leg is longer than the previous. We are making good progress. This is mainly down to Woodrow having picked a route that has no gully or river crossing until we are reaching our destination.

 

Crossing rivers or gullies in the dark can be a tricky business. Even though Woodrow knows the terrain quiet well. Every time it rains on the plains the gullies and rivers change their outline slightly. This causes us to feel and search our way down and out them and every time we are risking to break our limbs or necks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

We are pressing on and this night the ride is slightly easier as we don't have to cross much rivers or gullies on our way. I am leading us to a place where a few years ago a tent town had been build by the remains of the old mission of San Angelo. But neither of the mission is much left nor do I expect to find any of those tents, not with the raiding indians tormenting the area. Still I think we will find some shelter amongst the broken walls of the old mission, at least I hope that this old wall still stands. But first we have to reach the river junctions of the Concho Rivers.

 

The mentioning of the Concho Rivers confuses Rett and I have to elaborate that there are three river Conchos. This confuses him even more. So I have to do more explaining. When the first white men came to the area they got confused as there are three rivers merging into the river Concho and they thought each arm to be the river, especially as in dry summers some of the arms dry up. So they named each arm River Concho. Only when the Spaniards in 1632 came to build a mission called San Angelo where the three Concho rivers merge into one the mistake was noticed and the rivers renamed in North Concho, Middle Concho and South Concho river. The name stuck even though each river should have had her own name.

 

However the mission didn't lasted long and was abandoned some hundred years ago. This is the place I am heading for. From there with are following the merged Concho River down stream up to Fort Chadbourne near the place where the Concho hits the Colorado.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Woodrow tells me that he is planning to make camp at the junctions of the three Concho Rivers and at first I don't get what he is saying. So he explains to me that three different rivers had been given the name of Concho and only later had been discovered as being separate rivers and so they added North, Middle and South to the name of Concho to clarify.

 

I begin to understand that giving names to landmarks can be very tricky in these parts as many rivers run dry for most of the year and are only recognised when after a heavy rainfall their gullies are filled with water.

 

Woodrow tells me also about that Spanish mission San Angelo which was build there at the rivers' junction some two-hundred years ago and of the demise due to constant attacks by the indians. I gather that there might not be much left of the mission but Woodrow hopes for at least a wall or two for us to camp in their shade. He also explains that there had been a tent town for a while more recently but he expects the settlers to have moved on with the raids of the indians now picking up again. I begin to understand that with the diminished numbers of rangers out on the range for patrol this vast land is almost uncontrollable. I am making a mental note as this is a point that I have to add to my report.

I have also noted that most of the settlers rely rather on the rangers than on the regular army. So much so as they hate the regulars for they tend to steal from them sometimes even threaten their lives or even kill the settlers. And to think of those rangers being all volunteers, humbles me.

 

By break of dawn we reach the South Concho river and are preparing to cross. The twilight makes the crossing slightly easier but as soon as we are over and on our way to meet the Middle Concho river we are stopped by armed men. Woodrow is shot but in his left arm and it's a clean shot through. I quickly dismount and check on him when the men with their rifles closing in on us.

 

The oldest of them comes forward and helps me with Woodrow's wound. Apologising to us, he introduces himself as Richard Franklin Tankersley. He and his family have build a ranch in these parts and they mistook us for marauders. They explain that their cattle has been wrangled by deserters and indians alike lately and therefore they have decided on watch posts.

 

Tankersley and his boys are taking us to their ranch. Mrs. Tankersley immediately sees to the flesh wound in Woodrow's arm. I watch on as she closes the wound with a honey, herbs and wax mixture. Another scar Woodrow will have to live with.

 

  


 


	10. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call is shot.   
> They are brought to the Tankerley's farm to fix Call's arm.  
> Arriving in Fort Chadbourne more bad news arrives.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 10]   (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: Angst

Word Count: 1447

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

Riding in front of Rett I catch a bullet as we are crossing over to the river flats between the South and the Middle Concho River. The bullet hit throws me off my horse and I'm landing in the muddy grass.

A minute later Rett is at my side checking the injury. He says it's a clean shot through. I flinch a little when he helps me out of my coat and rolls up the sleeve of my shirt. He's still kneeling by my side when a man steps forwards introducing himself as Richard Franklin Tankersley. We are told that we are on the grounds of his ranch and that he had mistaken us for some of the marauders that were wrangling his cattle recently. Turns out that the Tankersleys' referring to the deserters Rett and I done away with only a day before.

 

The Tankersleys' father and sons take us back to their home where Richard's wife is treating my wounded arm. She cleans and pasts it with some honey-herbal mix before sealing it with bees wax. The hot wax stings quite a bit and I have to grit my teeth not to shout in pain.

 

On Richard's question that we should stay until my arm is proper fixed, I reply that Rett and I have to leave after night fall but Tankersley will not hear of it and so I have to put my foot down and insist claiming orders from Austin. Even his wife falling in to his request can't shake me. So the only shakes she gets are the ones of my head. “NO!” I say sternly, “We've lost already some time and are in a rush to make an appointment which we can't afford to miss.”

 

Rett noticing that I am avoiding to say where we are going, just replies “If Captain Call says, I have to follow.” I nod my approval at him. That's my lad.

However during the day we are woken by shooting and calls, finding that the ranch is under attack by a band of indians. We rush to the family's aid and our additional guns are welcomed. So we manage to fight them off but they are not giving in so lightly and so we are pestered by more raids throughout the day until nightfall. With the family in jeopardy we can't leave, especially as I believe that the indians are still around nearby. I am proved right as the next day is filled with more attempts to burn the house and kill us off. The family however is working like a well oiled machine with the three girls reloading guns whilst the parents, the brothers and we fire away on the approaching indians.

 

At last in the evening the attacks stop but leave us all exhausted. So we stay throughout the third to get some sleep before we're going. The day remains quiet and no indian is to be seen far and wide. But the two days of attacks have caused a serious delay and I am anxious to progress to Fort Chadbourne as soon as it gets dark.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Woodrow insists on us moving out as soon as it is dark enough to cover our exit, despite the protestations of the Tankersleys. However we are woken by shooting and hooting, finding the ranch being attacked by indians. We rush to help barricading the house and get our weapons out with the first major wave of raiding indians hitting hard. Woodrow and I were extremely surprised to find the family highly organised and prepared to defend their own and themselves.

 

The attacking indians are Kiowa and Comanches and I see that Woodrow realises the fact as well. He looks at me and I nod to indicate that I too have noticed. All in all this is no good sign. This confirms the worries that the tribes have come together to fight against the settlers. By the looks of it we have a proper Indian War in the making.

 

The raid on the Tankersley Ranch lasts for two days then the indians backing off, obviously convinced that they don't stand a chance against our fire power. When we finally leave after night fall on the third day they seemed to have gone. Woodrow instructs the family to stay on high alert until either the army or the rangers give them the heads-up.

 

At last we sneaking out in the middle of the night. Woodrow is speeding up as soon as we have left the ranch house. It's a moonless night and we rush to make it to Fort Chadbourne before the break of dawn.

I try to listen out for strange sounds but all I hear is the sounds of our horses and the heavy thudding of my heart.

 

When against the greying sky the silhouette of the fort appears dark before us, I am heaving a sigh of relief. Realising that throughout the night I was expecting to loose my hair any minute. Woodrow gives me a pat on the back when we dismount in the walled yard of the fort.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Even with my wounded arm I press on forcing my mare to fall into a lope straight away. I have warned Rett before leaving the Tankersley Ranch that we have to speed up. Also have told him that he has to be ready to fight for his head of hair and life at all times throughout our travel to Fort Chadbourne.

 

It's pitch black as we leave and the Tankersleys are good enough not to show a light as we slip out. The terrain is more challenging and before we reach the fort we will have to cross the Colorado river. I normally would have avoided that crossing, especially as we have to cross back after leaving Chadbourne. But my orders force me to.

 

I have messages from the governor for Colonel Henry McCulloch and his 1st Texas Mounted Rifles stationed at Chadbourne. The governor was strict when ordering for nobody else to be told of these orders but the Colonel directly. Also I want to get rid of the deserters effects which are slowing us down. Need to report back to Austin from there and give information on the bad situation on the Edward Plateau. Will not at all be good tidings I am bringing to say the least.

I desperately hope that we find McCulloch at the fort and not out on patrol somewhere. For if he's away I have to wait for him to return and when that will be nobody will be able to tell me.

 

I can feel Rett being tense throughout our ride and he even doesn't say a word when we wet our backs crossing the Colorado. He is clearly relieved when we reach the fort and the gate in the stake wall falls shut behind us.

I give him an encouraging pat on the back after dismounting but leave him to tend to the horses. I tell him that I have to see McCulloch at once and will join him later, storming off to the officers lodge.

 

I am lucky and find the Colonel not only at home but also up already. He smiles on my entrance and I receive a warm Ranger to Ranger welcome. This reminds me that Henry E. McCulloch had been one of us before the war.

He knows me well for not being good with idle palaver and so we get straight to the point. I deliver my memorised dispatch as well as the written ones. I also give him report on the deserters and that Rett and I have done away with them but brought their possessions back. Next is the raid on the Tankersley Ranch two days before.

“Looks like Little Bluff and Quanah have joint their forces.” I say, explaining that the band of indians attacking the ranch had been Kiowa and Comanches.

 

He just nods indicating that he is aware, then breaks the seals of the dispatches i've brought and waves me to sit down.

His adjutant brings me a coffee and a telegram from Austin. The man tells me that Rett has been provided with coffee as well but wanted to wait with breakfast for me to come back. He's been shown the sleeping quarters and our horses have been fed and stabled. I nod and thank him. Before he leaves, he asks me if I want my breakfast here or with Rett. I cast a glance at the Colonel who says that we two shouldn't be too long. So I answer that I'll have breakfast with Rett.

 

  


 


	11. Fresh orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call receives a telegram from the governor.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 11]   (crossposted tomeduseld, gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: `None

Word Count: 1331

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Everett

 

I'm getting our packs to our quarters. It's a large staff room but unused as the number of the troops stationed here has been reduced by half. I choose two beds in a more shaded corner of the room. The colonel's adjutant is watching on as I chuck my bags on one and Woodrow's on the other bed.

Next stop is the stables as I want to check on our horses but the stablehands have made a good job already and the horses are rubbed dry, brushed and covered with blankets. They are fed and quite settled. To the adjutant I point out the horses and mules we took off the deserters. I also explain that I have handed their possessions in with the quarter master.

The surprise on the man's face is amusing me but I am not putting him out of his misery by explaining my army background.

 

He drops me off in the canteen with a pot of hot coffee for company, asking if I want some chuck but I tell him that I am planning to wait for Woodrow to join. So he nods and walks away. I see him crossing the yard for the commander’s office. And I turn my attention to the coffee pot, hoping that I do not have to wait too long for Woodrow as I am starving and tired. Could sleep right here on the spot.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Colonel McCulloch is studying the dispatches and I am sipping on my coffee, open the telegram from the governor in Austin.

He's got news on Rett and giving me instructions which are so vague that I have to read between the lines. It more or less comes down to the advice to 'loose' Rett somewhere in New Mexico and to make sure that he doesn't re-enter Texas.

I'm trying hard to keep my face straight as I find myself under scrutinizing observation by the colonel. The governor tells me in that telegram that Rett will be treated as a prisoner of war and a spy if he returns to Texas. But between the lines it is clear that the governor rather prefers not to have to face that confrontation as it seems he has lost faith in the success of the Confederate cause. He clearly tries to kill two flies in one strike.

 

“Bad news?” the colonel interrupts my musings and I fold up the telegram and slip it into the pocket of my vest. “The usual.” I say as casual as possible.

He nods smiling and then we are discussing the indian business at hand.

He's received some troubling information. It seems that large bands of Kiowa and Comanches are gathering at the upper Red River.

Rumours having it that they are either planning a hit on Abilene or at Fort Belknap.

In both cases it's most likely that they are making a run on Chadbourne afterwards. With only the First Texan Mounted Rifles stationed at Chadbourne they are most likely overrun.

 

I disclose to Colonel McCulloch that Rett and I are heading for New Mexico to meet with Colonel Carson and General Carleton. Tell him about their plans to run an attack on the Kiowa and Comanche from the west.

“If you and the regiments at Belknap manage to hold firm, we can run the attack from the east and the west simultaneously, squeezing them like in a pair of pliers.” I suggest and promise to put that plan before Brigade General Carleton on our rendezvous. I then get up. “I need some replenishments before Rett and I head out again. We need to press on. If Little Bluff and Quanah gather at the Red, we might be able to slip through unnoticed. We've got to take our chances.” We shake hands. “You've got grit, Call. I give you that.” McCulloch says as we part.

 

I know that he's not seeing us off but will be out on patrol to keep an eye on those indians. The terrain he has to control is vast. Will take him weeks 'til he's back.

 

 

* * *

 

Everett

 

Woodrow comes across the yard towards the canteen. He looks tired and worried. He sits himself down opposite me. “News and fresh orders.” He says but then concentrates on the breakfast in front of him. I know he will share his news with me in his own good time.

 

I myself am much too tired to worry. All I want for at the moment is rolling up next to hims and sleep. We are walking slowly over to our quarters when the patrol of the First Texas Mounted Rifles rides out led by Colonel McCulloch. The colonel is saluting us on the way out and Woodrow and I return the salute. None of us can be sure that we ever meet again.

 

At our quarters Woodrow starts shoving together some of the beds and hobbles their feet so they are not moving asunder when we lie down. He then throws several mattresses on top to cover the links before spreading out our bedrolls side by side.

Meanwhile I am drawing the curtains on the windows. We know that the soldiers remaining at the fort to guard are instructed not to disturb us at all.

Woodrow and I are yawning repeatedly as we crawl into our bed. I'm sure that he's asleep immediately, just like I. I am dosing off as my head hits the pillow.

 

I wake up tightly wrapped in Woodrow's arms. His breath is brushing my ear. I am pressing myself closer against his body feeling warm, cosy and the stirring in my loins. I'm yearning for his lips, warm, soft, flexible and moist. So I turn, his eyes are still closed and I can't withhold a sigh of disappointment. That is when the corners of his mouth rise into a smile and I realise that he isn't asleep at all.

I poke him. “Bastard. You're awake.” I whisper as if we are not at all by ourselves.

His arm moves until his hand rests on the back of my head. He pushes me close, hisses “Shut up!” before his lips touch mine and his tongue forces mine to part open.

 

Teasingly I keep my teeth close forming a barrier which his agile tongue tries to breach.

I gasp as his other hand squeezes my right buttock firmly and he uses this to slip his tongue into my mouth.

 

I tense my buttock muscles under his probing fingers. His long fingers which are now busy to swiftly undo the buttons on the back of my long-johns. Sliding his hand in, penetrating the cleft between my back cheeks with his fingers applying powerful strokes and more pressure every time they are running past the hidden entrance.

 

I wish I could tell him to push his fingers inside but his tongue is still twirling mine and so I can't speak. All I can do is to push my arse out each time he touches the spot and try to force his finger to linger.

I can feel his chuckle building like the rumble of an earthquake until it shakes his chest and in concentrical circles reaches his lips on mine and his fingers on my bum.

 

He breaks contact still chuckling, accusing me of being impatient. But I can feel his wood poking me and suddenly I know that he too will not be able to constrain himself longer. So I unbutton my long-johns at the front before slipping out of them.

 

When my attention is focussed on him again he is as naked and ready as I am.

Oh my god, it has been too long. We both have this incredible urge and are washed away in that first surge of lust not able to hold back and savour the moment. But pushing us past our climax until we reach the point of breathless satisfaction.

 

  


 

 


	12. Making plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call explains to Hitch which route he is planning to take them to New Mexico.

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)   


  
  
**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 12]**   (crossposted to gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: `None

Word Count: 1214

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

Rett is making these small noises in the back of his throat which are utterly sexy and drive me over the edge. I try to make him stop by pushing my tongue deep into his mouth but still those tiny moans hit my ear and seemed to reach out straight for my cock.

The damn thing just now bocks like that damn bronco I once had. Rett feels it poking his belly and he gets totally undone. So I have to give it to him first. He makes more of these little grunts as I am poking him.

 

He does that finger thing again which makes it impossible for me to hold back and so I am spending myself utterly.

We roll off each others body to help with regaining our breaths. He looks at me and smiles. As soon as I have my breath back I say “You're turn, pard.” And we are going for another round.

 

The quartermaster needs one more day, he says as Rett and I paying him a visit in the late afternoon. I am making him aware that we need to leave fast. Actually the faster the better, but he says he's struggling with our required water supply and the ammunition. And those are exactly the things we need most urgently. He says, that he has not enough canteens to fill our water in. However, he can supply a barrel or two, but that might be awkward transporting as we don't have a chuckwagon with us. He was trying to get us some water-skins he says but they haven't been delivered yet. So it's no good and we have to stay a little longer.

 

This will give Rett and me some more time to rest.

 

I am still chewing on those new orders from Austin concerning Rett. Sooner or later I do have to tell him, if I only knew how to.

 

I have told the quartermaster that he has half a day at most to get us what we need. From his office Rett and I go to the canteen for some more coffee. The cook just finished a batch of shortbread and Rett and I are in for a wee treat. Which is very nice. It feels a little like a holiday. When we return to our quarters Rett pushes me down on the bed and one leads to the other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

I can only thank the quartermaster for forcing us to stay a little longer at Chadbourne. I know that this is not to Woodrow's liking, but I have to admit quietly to myself that I am not looking forward to the next part of our journey.

I've heard so much about the infamous Llano Estacado by now that my mood is slightly dimmed at the prospect to having to cross it.

 

I am distracting myself by pinning Woodrow down on the bed and first we fool around a little but then we stop fooling. He combs his fingers through my hair. There is something very sad in his eyes. He stares at my face as if he's trying to drink in all of my features and little habits.

His forehead is wrinkled and I am tracing each line with my finger until he catches my hand, kisses my fingertip and smiles. But there is still that sadness in his eyes.

“Something is nagging at you. Don't deny it. I can se it in your eyes.” I say, lifting myself up on my arms, leaning over him. His smile vanishes and it feels as if someone has eclipsed the sun.

 

“Please.” I say softly. He sits up and takes me in his arms, pressing me close. Presses me so close that my chest rests on his and holds my head over his shoulder with his hand at the back so that I can't see his face.

 

However I can feel him swallowing hard and taking a deep breath before he comes out with it. He never lets go of me once as he tells me about the telegram he has received from the governor in Austin. He speaks in a very soft voice and there is this sad undertone in his voice as well. I feel that his sentiments are honest.

 

“Woodrow, when do you think we reach New Mexico?' I ask. He lets go of me and moving backward we are facing each other. He shrugs. “I don't know, Rett. I wished I could tell you. But I really don't know.” He looks me in the face. “If we are not running into any kind of trouble …” He pauses and I know what he means with “IF”. But then he continues. “… in two weeks possibly, maybe longer.”

 

He gets up and produces one of his personal maps of the territory. “We are here.” He says pointing on his map after spreading it out on the bed. His finger rests on a small dot near a wiggly line that represents the Colorado River. Nearby I see written out in his neat hand the county name as Coke.

 

He then shows me what he has planned. “Our next stop will be near a place call Big Springs.” He says and his index finger of the other hand points on the map again. He explains to me that there had been a small settlement in the past which of course he don't believes to be still there. “Might as well be ghosted as it is inside the Comancheria. And with the indians running wild at the moment.” He tells me that the Colonel McCulloch has told him earlier, that the tribes of Kiowa, Comanches and some Apaches are gathering somewhere near the Red River.

 

“Is the Red River anywhere near our route?” I ask and he shakes his head. He then points out on his map where we are going and where the Red River runs. I heave a sigh and he smiles.

 

“Don't worry if we are lucky they will not notice us. They will be busy with their powwow and the war preparations.” He says and there is quite some confidence in his voice.

“From Big Springs we will travel westward to the New Mexican border. There is a small settlement called Hobbs which has a secure water supply. From there we will travel to Fort Sumner at the Pecos. The rest is easier as we will follow the river upstream via Santa Rosa to Santa Fe.”

 

“Didn't you say that we should travel to that Fort Bosco to meet with Carleton and Carson?” I say. He nods.

“Yes. That was the original plan but now Carson has left Fort Bascom to go to Cimarron to find Scouts for his little adventure. When we arrive in Santa Fe he will be on his way back from Cimarron and meet with us there. We then will travel together back to Bascom to liaise with the General before moving out.”

 

He folds his map up again and then stuffs it back into his saddlebag. With his back turned on me he says, “I leave it to you fi you want to stay in Santa Fe.”

 

  


 


	13. Comancheria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two are ambushed by Indians as they are trying to cross the Stake Plains.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 13] (crossposted togondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann 

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: `None

Word Count: 1167

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Everett

 

Since he has dropped the bombshell, Woodrow has been very quiet. Quieter than his usual quiet. Not that he talks much normally.

“Woodrow.” I say and approaching him put my hand on his shoulder. “I know that this has nothing to do with you. That is the governor's order. Fact is that it could have been worse.” He nods and seeing the Lieutenant Colonel, who's in charge for the Fort in in Colonel McCulloch's absence, coming towards us, he signals me to fall silent.

 

The Lieutenant Colonel salutes us and then pulls Woodrow as the senior officer and in charge of our small outfit to the side.

A few minutes later they part and Woodrow comes back to me telling me that we have to hurry and leave. I nod and rush to our quarters to get our tack and then make a run for getting the horses ready. Meanwhile Woodrow heads to the quartermaster's office to retrieve our ordered replenishments.

 

It turns out that the Lieutenant Colonel has received a dispatch announcing that the indian war parties are on the move heading southward from their powwow at the Red River. What makes the situation difficult for us is the news that bands of indians are migrating from the south to join with Little Bluff's renegades.

  
This makes it necessary for us to cross the Panhandle before we get trapped by those two indian forces. So I am hurrying to get our mounts ready and help Woodrow stowing away our fresh supplies he has got from the quartermaster. The recent development force us to rush and this involves moving out onto the plains in broad daylight.

 

I am only glad that our horses are well rested by now, as I am pretty sure that Woodrow will speed up. However crossing the Panhandle which is crossing the Stake Plains we will need our horses to keep their energy reserves to take us through that barren land. And as the land we are to cross is Comanche territory, I am not actually looking forward to this.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

I just learnt that the quartermaster has only got half of the water-skins we require but at least the ammunition for Rett's eight-gauge has arrived in the numbers I ordered. However, I am not very happy.

The bad news the Lieutenant Colonel has brought earlier means that Rett and I have to hurry to make it to Hobbs over the New Mexican border.

 

Rett has our horses ready and gives me a hand with the skins at the Fort's well. Besides our four canteens we have six skins which hold more than our usual canteens. As we have to travel fast I can't risk to travel after dark which of course adds to the risk.

I hope to find some remaining building of that settlement near Big Spring still standing to provide shelter for us, if we are not making it to Big Spring directly. Even though I don't expect to find any settlers there, which might have moved to Big Spring for safety.

 

We mount up and without further ado we ride out heading north-west. We have to save our horses but at the same time need to speed so I push my buckskin to loping but hold him back so he doesn't fall into a gallop.

 

We are almost at the little settlement and I can see the facades of the only two wooden buildings before us when from behind them some indians approach us whooping and firing arrows.

I kick my ol' buckskin and he jumps before starting to gallop. I am stirring him southward but keeping the westerly general direction. Rett and his little mare are right by my side. We are checking the dally that ties our spare and pack horses.

Out of the corner of my eyes I can see Rett fetching his eight-gauge ready and I too reach for my rifle.

 

Rett sends two shots in the indians direction and I fire my rifle whilst he is reloading. We keep up with the rota three more times and finally the indians fall back. Just to make sure that we are good, we are sticking with galloping for a while, turning around to check once in a while. But the horizon stays clear so I reign my gelding and so does Rett with his bay mare.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

The first part of our travel is fairly uneventful. Riding side by side, the horses in a comfortable canter. I'll take the chance to discuss with Woodrow the telegram from Austin. He makes it clear that he despises the governor for being two faced. 

“He just wants to save his own sorry backside. Hoping not to upset the Feds and the Confeds. Just to make sure to stay in office no matter how this darn war ends.”

I tell him that I mean to find a solution to stay with him to the end of our assignment.

“But you can't.” He gasps. “You know what that telegram said about what happens when you re-enter Texas.”

I tell him that I intend to sign up with Colonel Carson's outfit

“He's got permission to enter Texas with his army despite being a Federal, hasn't he?” Woodrow confirms. “So, see if I sign up with him, I can go with you.”

He thinks it over for a moment, then smiles. “It might work.” He says but is cut short when we are ambushed by a group of Comanches, which had been lying in hiding behind the remains of the building of that abandoned settlement Woodrow had intended us to camp in.

 

Woodrow pulls away in southwesterly direction and I assuming that he knows what he's doing follow without asking.

Apart from the fact that there is not much time to challenge his decision anyway. I check the dally holding my spare and the packhorse and then grab my eight-gauge.

I see Woodrow doing the same and I fire my first two shots at the indians. While I am reloading Woodrow fires his rifle. We have to repeat that for a few times until the indians give up.

 

We are still galloping ahead for about ten minutes until Woodrow slows down after a final check that we have lost our attackers.  
“So much for that plan.” He says, shrugs and suddenly chuckles. Looking at my worried face he laughs even more. “Let's head for Sterling.” He says.

 

But instead of riding on he stops. “Fuck!” He growls and it's the first time I hear him really swear. Woodrow, unlike the other Ranger boys or even Gus, normally hardly uses swearwords at all.

So wondering I ask “What's up?”

“Sterling is no good to us. We have to try our luck with Big Spring. Maybe if we approach from a different side, we can avoid those indians.” He says and fishes for his map.

 

  


 

 


	14. Big Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chased by Indian hordes Call and Hitch approach Big Springs.

[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 14] (crossposted to gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: `None

Word Count: 1234

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

Thanks to our fresh horses and the firepower of Rett's eight-gauge and my rifle we have escaped the Comanche ambush. But it has thrown us off course and now we have to make a run for Big Spring no matter what to expect. I fear that Big Spring might be under attack as well.

We will have to race for most of the way so I want to make sure that the horses are in good shape.

 

I dismount and check Rett's mare's legs and then the ones of my gelding. “Best we change horses.” I say and begin to take the kack off my ol' buckskin. He's a good horse and has served me well in the past but he's not fast enough with a rider on. It would be a shame if I was to loose him due to recklessness.

 

My spare horse is a sorrel gelding with a powerful breast and croup who will easily manage with the speed over a longer stretch. Rett changes his little bay mare to a tall and strong build blue roan appaloosa gelding. His too is a sturdy horse and a good runner, however, not quite as enduring as mine.

 

As I am fixin' to tighten the cinch, Rett is putting his kack on the horse's back. I see him fumbling with the latigo. I'm tying my sombrero with my wild rag so he won't blow off when I speed up.

I watch Rett mount and dallying his mare and the packhorse as I have done with mine. He looks at me and nods.

“Vamos!” I say and dig my heels into my sorrel's flanks.

 

My cayuse crow-hops but I rein him in knowing him for having a wild character and being a bronco. He tries to shake but then he stretches out and starts pacing in wide leg strides. Rett whose appaloosa had galloped struggles to get into gear and I leave him some leagues behind. It takes him a bit until he catches up with me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Woodrow suggests we try our luck and head for Big Spring. Even though he thinks that the town is under attack. He says that from there we have the shortest route through the Comancheria.

To my astonishment he doesn't set off straight away but dismounts and checks our horses' legs.

Shaking his head he tells me that we will have to “ride mighty hard” and that I have to “cinch up”. Therefore his opinion is that we better change to our fresh spare horses.

 

He has his “kack” back on his sorrel in no time. I am struggling a bit to tie the latigo to my hull. Have to poke my appaloosa in the belly several times as the cheeky bugger keeps taking deep breaths and holding it when I try to fix the saddle on his back. Finally I manage to get him to exhale and I am quick to tie the latigo.

 

When we are both mounted Woodrow shouts “Vamos!”, digging his heels into his sorrel's flanks. So I do the same. My appaloosa strides out and falls easily into gallop. I leave Woodrow behind and turning see how his gelding crow-hops as if he wants to throw him off. But Woodrow being the amazing horseman he is reins him in and suddenly the sorrel strides out and is pacing ahead and past me. I have to dig my heels into my appaloosa's flanks several times until he too races ahead and we are struggling to catch up with Woodrow.

 

I am getting a little light headed as it feels as if we are in one of those Long Island horse races. At first I am wondering why Woodrow is speeding up like mad. But soon we are flying past the building's remains we were first ambushed. And then there is the town coming closer, fast.

I can see that they are under attack from a large group of indians. The indians part as we are approaching in neck breaking speed.

 

Before I know Woodrow drives his sorrel, buckskin and packhorse all the same towards a barricade and the lot jumps over the road block in one mighty jump.

I spurn my appaloosa on, take a good grip to my saddle horn making sure that the dally doesn't come off and brace myself for the same stunt. I close my eyes for a split second and pray as the gelding lifts off the ground. Lances, arrows and bullets seem to surround me as we are in mid jump and all seems to be frozen in time. I turn my head to the left and see an arrow flying at the same speed as I as we are suspended in mid air and all seems to run in slow motion, bullets, arrows, the horses and I.

 

Logic tells me that all this is happening very fast, split seconds but still it seems like ages to me until the hooves of my appaloosa are hitting ground again. Then I have to hold my breath as it seems as if he's going to tumble over. I pull his head up and the gains his feet and finally I manage to slow him down to stand-still. He is panting and his breast is white with foamy sweat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

I am jumping the barricade with my horses first and thanks to that sturdy sorrel make it OK into Big Spring.

The town's people have build barricades blocking off all roads leading into town and all able men and even the women folks are defending their town against the Comanches attacking.

I dismount grab my rifle and ammo too and dash to the nearest barricade myself. Just seeing Rett's appaloosa stretching himself over the fence made of straw bales, desks, chairs and wagons. For a split second it looks as if they are crashing on impact but then the big gelding finds his feet and lands safely in the street. Rett slows him down and they soon stop next to my sorrel. The poor animal is trembling with the effort and Rett's knees are likewise wobbly.

 

However he doesn't give himself much time to recover. He throws his reins to some youngsters who are taking care of our horses, after he has grabbed for his eight-gauge and some packs of cartridges.

Soon he's by my side firing shot after shot and the eight-gauge frightens the indians. I am not sure if it's due to that loud noise each shot produces or because of the spread of the load. Anyway it causes confusion amongst the Comanches who are not sure whether they are hit or not. This gives us others time to aim our rifles and makes it easier to place some well aimed rifle shots to bring the indians down.

But the devils are not giving in lightly and wave after wave hit our makeshift ramparts.

 

I soon have to signal that I am running low on ammunition and one of the youngsters comes crawling bringing some more boxes. He just reaches me when the man to my left sinks down shot in the shoulder.

The youngster doesn't flinch but picks up the man's rifle and takes his place whilst some of the old folks drag the wounded man into the safety of one of the houses.

 

 

  


 

 


	15. Rescued in the nick of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the appearance of the 1st Texas Rifles the Indians disperse and Big Springs is saved.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 15] (crossposted togondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: `None

Word Count: 1131

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

  


Everett

 

Woodrow was at the barricades firing away as I am jumping off my appaloosa, grabbing by eight-gauge and two boxes of ammunition. Despite my wobbly knees from the almost breakneck landing after the barricade jump, I dash and find my place next to Woodrow to defend the town.

The eight-gauge does a good job creating mighty confusion amongst the savages. A short while later and I hear Woodrow call out for more ammunition. A young boy in his early teens crawls up to us bringing the required rounds. Just then the man on the other side of Woodrow is being shot. The youngster goes for the injured man's rifle and takes his place at the barricades without having been asked. While some elderly women dragging the wounded man into a nearby house to see to his wound.

 

I'm only fearing that we will not hold up against these hordes long when the indians suddenly fall back. “What the f...” I just in time call myself to order when there is a bugle call from the other end of the town and the town folks start to cheer.

Colonel McCulloch and the 1st Texas Mounted Rifles charge after the retreating indians cheered on by the people of Big Spring.

 

However they are not going after the indians all the way but return to the town. The Colonel greets us friendly when he spies us amongst the town folks. But he is kept busy with the town elders who demand protection from the raiding indians.

The Colonel comes over to meet with us after his meeting, rolling his eyes. “They expect us to be everywhere at the same time.” He sighs and Woodrow and I can only nod our agreement to the impossibility. “Don't they know that there is a war on?” McCulloch adds shrugging his miscomprehension.

 

We are having a nap in one of the rooms of the town's hotel. When it is time to leave the Colonel accompanies us to the town's boundaries to see us off as Woodrow and I are making ready to move out.

“Did you see in which direction those indians were going?” The Colonel wants to know. Woodrow points out in direction north-east whilst I say it. The Colonel grins. “You two are perfectly matched.” He says and I feel the blood rushing to my face and turn around quickly to hide the blushing mounting up. Woodrow raises his eyebrow at my reaction but mounts as well clearing his throat at the same time.

“Adios, Colonel.” He says and they are shaking hands. We both tip our hat then dig our heels into our mounts. We are riding out quiet, not turning and not exchanging a word for quite a while. Somehow I feel very embarrassed by the Colonel's remark.

 

Woodrow riding slightly ahead of me doesn't even care to turn and look at me when he says “No worries about the Colonel. He's not going to write a report on that.” I know that I am blushing even more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Thanks to the First Texas Mounted Rifles who are making an appearance just in the nick of time the indian attack is cut short. Henry McCulloch has heard of the migration of a large number of indian warriors to the North and this has triggered him to change the route of his routine inspection of this large area he has to look after with his men. I know how hard it is to keep control of the large county especially with the reduced numbers.

Anyway the troops have rushed back and made it to Big Spring just in time to save the town and it's people.

 

I have been speaking to Rett that we need to prepare ourselves to a hard ride. I have asked him if he is prepared for a strenuous attempt riding out by night and throughout the day without a break to get that last leg on Texan soil behind us as fast as possible. He agrees and we decide to have some rest before we are setting out again. We are just on our way to find a place to settle down for a nap when McCulloch approaches us. The colonel wants to know if we have seen in which direction the indians went. He has some information that a large band is forming and moving on from the Red River towards the Brazos stirring trouble. The direction of the indians retreat seems to support that as they obviously are on the move to join up with those renegades.

 

This news just confirms that Rett and I have to speed up. So we cut the discussion with McCulloch short. He nods understandingly, promises to see us off after nightfall. Rett and I get ourselves a hotel room and fall into bed instantaneously asleep.

At sundown a knock at the door wakes us. It's the landlord of the hotel whom I ordered earlier to wake us up. He tells us that he has a meal ready for us and that the town's mayor wants to see us before we leave.

Rett and I swap places between chamberpot and washing stand and get dressed.

 

In the hotel lounge we sit down for our meal and are shortly joint by the mayor and the colonel. Both men are offering us drinks but Rett and I decline sticking with coffee. We can't afford to ride out into Comancheria with a tipsy brain.

 

The mayor of Big Spring insists of us taking some extra supplies donated by the town people. At first I am thinking of declining but Rett whispers that it's worth to have a look at what it is first. I hadn't thought of that there might be something useful in between.

I leave this to Rett whilst I have a last meeting with Colonel McCulloch, who gives me a complete update on the situation in the Comancheria.

I on the other hand inform him that Rett and I attempt to cross the Panhandle to Hobbs in one go which should take us one and a half days. This is something we should be able to pull off. In Hobbs we will put in a longer rest until we and our horses are rested to carry on.

 

According to my calculations Rett and I are well within our time plan. So all we need to do is to make sure to make it in one piece.

But there is this little obstacle of which I haven't told Rett or anybody else yet. This obstacle is that I have not the faintest idea what to expect as soon as we have crossed the border as I never have been to New Mexico before.

 

 

  


 

 


	16. Towards the New Mexican border

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call confesses he's never been to New Mexico and relates a little more of his history.  
> Hitch confesses that he has been and we learn more about him.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 16] (crossposted togondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: None

Word Count: 1191

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Everett

 

Our progress through the night and Comancheria is quite slow and I am blaming myself mostly, as Woodrow has to hold back and keep an eye on me as I am stumbling in behind.

Woodrow falls back until we are side by side. “You should not try to rein the horse. He will find his way all by himself. Just make sure that he moves in the general direction.” He says in a hushed voice.

I know that sounds carry out here at night and so I just nod. We are riding on silent for a while.

 

“Have you ever been to New Mexico?” He asks me a short time later. Riding so close that our legs meet.  
The question makes me wonder but truly I respond “Once. Why are you asking?”

He clears his throat as quietly as possible before answering.

“Well, I haven't.” I hardly believe what I am hearing. “You what?” I almost shout but last minute call myself to order and hush my voice down.

 

Despite the dark I can see him blushing.

“I've been all over the Panhandle.” He says. “But I never crossed the border. I joint that Texas Santa Fé expedition as a young ranger. Just shortly after Gus and I met. But we never made it to Santa Fé. The Mexican's imprisoned us and walked us down along the Rio Grande before we even reached.”

He normally doesn't refer much to that ill-fated expedition and so I am knowing better to ask more. So far I have pieced some things together and I know that this was when he broke his foot and received the lashed which are still scarring his back.

 

As he is sharing his bad experience with me I am doing likewise and tell him that I have been to the western part of the New Mexican Territory. Just over the border from California. Three years earlier I had been serving under the command of then Colonel James Henry Carleton with the Californian Volunteers and had fought at the Butterfield Stagecoach Station against Mangas Coloradas and his Apaches.

Our outfit had been ordered to press down the Apaches in the aftermath of the Bascom Affair and Cochise's attack on the soldiers at the Apache Pass.

 

Neither the now Brig. Gen. Carleton nor Col. Carson were strangers to me. But even when fighting the Apaches I had never been further than a small hamlet called Tombstone in the territory the Apaches called Arizonac.

Just like Woodrow I never had made it to Santa Fé.

 

This makes it clear that we both heading into unchartered territory. With this in mind the next half hour we are discussing the prospects of getting unharmed through Comancheria and the possibilities of heading into troubles with the Apaches when crossing into the New Mexican territory.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Under the cover of darkness I find the heart to confess to Rett that I never have been to the New Mexican Territory before. I thought he would ask further but he doesn't and rather tells me that he has met Carleton and Carson before on a campaign against the Apaches in the New Mexican Territory. His story reveals that he too hasn't been to the eastern part of New Mexico but rather in the west nearer to the Californian border in an area called Arizonac.

 

It doesn't come as a surprise to me when he confesses that he's met wit Carleton and Carson before. As he realises this he turns to me asking me for how long I have known.

“I wasn't so sure but presumed that you had experience with indians. The first time I suspected as so much when we met with those Comanches. Remember when you were collecting the mesquite for my legs.” I say explaining that his reaction hadn't been that of a rookie. None of the first-timers had held their nerves like he had as far as I had experienced. From that to finding out that he had fought against indians before hadn't be a big step and the rest had been revealed when the governor had given me his report on Rett.

 

Now that this is out of the way we are contemplating the chances of an Apache attack as soon as we are entering the New Mexican territory. I encourage him to tell me all he knows about the Apaches and in return I am telling him of my experiences with them, the Comanches and Kiowa.

 

Before the breaking of dawn we are changing horses as we have to speed up. We also using this short break to freshen up by splashing a handful of water over face and neck.

Rett gets out one of our food parcels and holds out some dried meat and biscuits for me to take. I nod my thanks and help myself to my portion. Very considerate of him. Especially as when we are galloping over the plains we will not have the time to eat and slowing down is out of the question as long as it not clear that there are indians about.

It might as well be that they will start to hunt us as soon as the sun is up. So we better cinch up for what is to come as soon as day breaks.

We are making sure that our tack is attached safely, the horses' shoes are in good condition and no obstacle is wedged between shoe and hoof.

 

As the horizon announces the new day with a bright orange strip we mount up and spur our horses on. They easily fall into a lope and then gallop as we gather momentum. While we are speeding on I keep an eye on our surroundings but there's not a sign of indians at all. So I signal to Rett to slow down to a lobe again to save our horses.

 

Around noon the sun is burning down on us relentlessly and the horses we are riding are covered in sweat and breathing hard. I have another look around but the heat has turned the plains into an oven and the pictures appearing in the flickering heat are misleading.

I wonder if the shady figures in the distance are actually there, as mirages are frequent in this parts.

But we need to change horses and our current mounts need rubbing dry and a drink. So I decide to take the risk and we stop for a moment to take care of the necessary chores.

 

I point out the shadows I have seen in the distance and we decide to keep an eye on them to see if they are really coming our way or if they nothing but mirages. Rett comes up with the idea to move the horse in such a fashion that we are able to cover all area around us with me facing north-west and he south-east. However we are going quickly about it and this time it's me fetching the food but we are mounting up and get moving before I share between the two of us.

 

  


 


	17. Hobbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After making it safe and sound into Hobbs Hitch is attacked and wounded.

****[](http://pics.livejournal.com/j_flattermann/pic/002f54yc/)  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire [Part 17] (crossposted togondorian_men* and sons_of_gondor)

Author:j_flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Warning: None

Word Count: 1338

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historic real persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: August 1864. This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

  


Everett

 

Woodrow points out to me some shadows in the flittering air at the horizon. Neither of us is able to establish if this is just a mirage or riders coming towards us. However we do have to have a break to change horses and more over rub our current mounts dry as they are covered I sweat and we can't afford for them to fall ill.

We slow down but I can see Woodrow's gaze wandering back to the shadowy figures in the distance. We have to stop ans when we do I suggest that we are facing each other whilst grooming the horses. This way we are able to scan the landscape around us frequently for unwelcome visitors. Of course Woodrow choses his position facing the mirage/pursuers.

 

Nevertheless we are hurrying with the task at hand and when that is done and we are ready to run, I see Woodrow heading for our provision getting some chuck out. However he's not handing it out to me just yet but rather mounts up and I follow swiftly his lead.

With the horses loping away he hands me a portion of dried meat and short bread which we are eating on the go.

It's all very dry and I have to wash it down with a healthy swig from my canteen. However seeing Woodrow's disapproving stare I refrain form a second helping but make sure that the canteen is securely closed before putting it away.

 

With my belly full and quite satisfied I am letting my gaze wander To my great annoyance I realise that the mirage like shadows are in fact riders obviously heading in our direction. I make quick to point that out to Woodrow and we spur our horses back into a gallop.

With the speed picking up fast again we surely must have gained some ground and won time of it. However if the riders in the distance are indeed indians we will not be safe until we reach Hobbs at the New Mexican border.

 

Unfortunately there are little landmarks in this part of the Stakes which would help us to calculate the distance between those riders and our own position. So we can only hope for reaching Hobbs before they are catching up with us. Woodrow presses our tempo rigorously and our horses stretch out in vast strides as the ground underneath us flies past. Unfortunately this makes it almost impossible to see obstructions on the ground and so it happens that my little mare's foot gets stuck in a hole ans she tumbles over and I am somersaulting in a crash landing to the ground.

The poor beast screams in agony as her left front leg dangles limp from where the bones are broken. Woodrow notices my accident but been in full speed it takes him a while to rein his horse back and to turn around to come back to the point where I have landed.

 

He pulls up at my side just as I am stumbling back to my feet. M entire left body half feels sore and there is a stabbing pain coming from my wrist. On brief inspection it turns out that I have suffered some major abrasions along my left side and my left wrist is broken. I tell Woodrow and as he can't do much for me at the moment he goes to take my tack of the mare and ends the poor little beasts sufferings with a swift cutting of her throat.

 

Woodrow quickly saddles my appaloosa and helps me mounting up. I am stuffing my hand almost up to the elbow into my shirt for protection before taking up the reins which Woodrow hold ready for me with my right. Somehow I am glad that it's the left wrist for I am right handed and can't afford to loose my shooting hand.

We hurry on but this time Woodrow constrains the pace of the horses to make sure that we are not suffering another incident.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Despite Rett's broken wrist we have to move on and there is nothing I can do about but wrap my bandana around it to stabilize the hand a little. However I make sure that we are reducing the speed as we can't afford another accident. It's a shame about Rett's little mare but with a broken leg there wasn't much for me to do but to take the poor think out of her misery. Rett has fallen completely silent since his fall and I can see that he is in much pain. He is quite pale despite his sunburnt face. Unfortunately I haven't any medicine on me to help him with the pain at the moment, but I will make sure that he sees a doctor as soon as we reach Hobbs.

However Rett is a brave chap and grits his teeth. There is not moan coming past his lips.

 

I concentrate on our route again, still checking on the ominous riders who's shapes are still following our course in the flittering heat.

As I turn my face again I recognise the first shapes of buildings in the distance ahead. I point them out to Rett who nods and tries a little smile.

“Not long now. How are you holding up?” I try to cheer him up a little and again he tries a little smile.

 

Again I promise to myself that first thing is getting Rett to a doctor to sort out that wrist of his. I am feeling a little optimistic as it seems that we will make it to the town well before those pursuers be able to reach us.

 

It takes another two hours until we reach Hobbs. As soon as we arrive people line the streets. I stop at the first group and ask for the doctor. A man points me in the direction and by the looks of it the man has set up his praxis above the local merchant's store.

 

We ride up and dismount. Rett struggles with climbing down not hitting his injured hand and some seemingly drunken idiot starts making trouble for him and pushes and pokes him. Knowing that Rett can't defend himself with his injury I am jumping forward like a cougar taking the borrachon unawares.

Next thing I know is Rett clinging to me for dear life shouting “Stop it, he's had enough.”

Fuck!

I stop fisting and looking down on the unconscious man and to the gathered crowd I say: “I cannot tolerate rude behaviour.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

We arrive at Hobbs and the people come out to see who we are. Woodrow steers his horse to the first group asking for the doctor and on receiving an answer we are heading in the direction given.

The doctor resides above the General Store and when we arrive there I am struggling to get down my horse and tie it to the pole.

 

This attracts the local drunkard's attention and the man staggers over and first make a remark about my “cookie duster” which I simply ignore. But he wouldn't let me be and starts to push and poke me. Hitting my injured body half and I flinch with pain.

 

Before I can do anything Woodrow is upon him beating him up. He's really losing it and I have never seen him like this. He getting himself in a right frenzy. In the end I have to go between them wrapping my arm around him and pushing him away.

“Stop it!” I shout, “He's had it.” Another man is helping me holding Woodrow back who slowly calms himself and finally stops saying he can't tolerate rude behaviour.

 

This all has taking too much of my strength and I almost collapse in the street. But Woodrow is immediately at my side and drags me up the stairs to the doctor's office.

As the man is setting my wrist the pain gets to much for me and all goes black.

  



	18. Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are having a break in Hobbs whilst Everett's broken wrist needs healing.

  
  
**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire – Part 18**  (crossposted to gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2269

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historical persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: Mid to End September 1864.

_This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted._

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

  


Woodrow

 

I am glad that Rett is passed out for the doctor has to re-break his wrist as the bones were healing in the wrong fashion and the wrist might end up staying stiff.

The doctor asks me to hold Rett down by his shoulders as he breaks the wrist and then sets the bones in the right order before putting a cast around hand, wrist and the lower arm for stability.

He's still at it when the door opens and in walks the local sheriff. Not saying a word the man sits himself down in the docs' counselling chair, waiting.

 

As soon as it is clear that Rett is going to be OK, I walk over to the sheriff and we leave the praxis together. I give the sheriff a brief heads up as to what had happened and see as he was already in the know of what was going on and how the brawl had started in the first place. I apologise for having flipped the way I had but he shakes his head saying that it is understandable as I was worried over my injured friend and feeling responsible to look out for him.

 

Side by side we cross the main street as I am heading for the Wells Fargo Office to post a dispatch and it is only then that the sheriff realises that I am a Ranger from the star at my belt.

He says his goodbye and turns and I too turn to watch him leave when I see that across the street the deputy sheriff arresting the drunkard who had attacked Rett.

 

Facing the officer at the counter I a asking him for a form sheet to put my dispatch down and also how long it will take to be delivered to Fort Bascom. The man explains that the Pony Express boys will take care of the delivery and that is shall not take longer than three days.

I whistle in astonishment. “That's mighty quick!” I say and the man behind the counter chuckles. “Despite the injuns an' all.” He says proudly as if he was one to the riders who risk their hair every day.

I keep my message brief just saying that due to Rett's broken wrist which needs proper healing we will relay and stay a couple of days as long as a week in Hobbs before setting off again.

I address the whole thing to Gen. Carleton as I am not sure where Col. Carson will be at the moment.

 

Pretty sure that I have made myself clear that I am not going to risk Rett's health, I am paying for the dispatch and leave the WF office. On the way back to the doctor's I am held up by several towns people who are asking after Rett's injury and asking me to pass on their well-wishes. It seems that they are still on our side. And I am learning that the drunkard is famous for troublemaking. Many of them express their understanding of me loosing it as Rett had been injured and the drunkard started it all. I am thanking the good folks and promise to pass their good wishes on to Rett before I excuse myself and rush up the stairs to the doctor's praxis to check on Rett.

 

Just before I reach the door I am called from down below as the sheriff reenters and I have to run down the stair again. He tells me that his deputy has taken care of our horses and put them into the delivery stable at the end of the main street. Also they both have taken care of our tack and booked us a room at the only hotel in town. I am thanking the sheriff and then rush back upstairs.

 

When I finally enter the doc's place Rett is just coming around and his eyelids are fluttering as he is going to wake. I am stepping next to the bed, the doctor has placed him on and listening into to the instructions the doctor is giving how to care for his wrist's healing should be supported.

I make a mental note of all the things the doctor says as I am not so sure that Rett is getting it at all.

On the doctor's question I confirm that we are staying in town until Rett's wrist is properly healed and that we have been book into the hotel by the sheriff and his deputy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Woodrow is pampering me like crazy and insists that we are not moving on before my wrist is not fully healed. I try several times to convince him that I am quite all right and that the cast around my hand and arm will not hinder me the least and can be taken off somewhere else as soon as the wrist is healed. However the stubborn bugger is not hearing of it and instead informs me that he already has sent off a dispatch to Brig. Gen. Carleton telling him about my misfortune and that we will not leave Hobbs until in a week or so depending my wrist is healed enough by then.

 

At the hotel we are sharing a room. Woodrow convinces the owner that I am helpless with my arm all messed up and he therefore needs to stay with me at all time to assist me with food, drink and foremost the piss pot. According to the doctor's instructions I am ordered to bed rest for at least three days and I am not allowed any use of my left arm.

For the abrasions and the bruises on my left side of the body I have been given a large pot of salve which Woodrow is to apply twice daily.

 

So I can't really complain being undressed and tucked into bed with him cuddling up next to me, dipping his fingers into the salve pot and applying the sticky cream in small circular motions over my left shoulder and arm. Then down along the ribs with make me twitch with the tickling feeling and then down over my hip and my legs.

 

Making sure that my injured wrist is well out of the way I am pressing myself close against Woodrow's body and I can feel him stirring. I turn slightly over to look him into the face and are met with Woodrow looking very worried at me but I lean further towards him until his body supports my weight and lock his mouth with my lips.

 

My entire left body is nicely tinted in yellow-greenish blue and Woodrow hardly dares to touch me for fear it might hurt. But I force my lips onto his again and push my tongue into his easily wielding mouth. As we break free to breathe I can't help but grin. Woodrow smiles back and swiftly rushes to bar the door, strip himself before he crawls back laying beside me.

 

I catch his scornful look and have to chuckle pointing out not only my hard-un but also his own standing proud to attendance. Motioning him to come to me quickly, I am stressing to him that it would be a pity and shame to let this precious moment go to waste. Because of my injury I decide to go bottom but Woodrow is still worried about my bruised left body-half. So he rather crawls up behind me and pushing my legs towards my chest, gropes with his hands at my buttocks and balls. But I am not happy and say so for I can't see him that way, so he climbs over me and we are lying face to face.

 

“Will it hurt when you have to open your legs wide?” He asks me and suddenly I wished I could get my right arm free to make him touch me. Without that option all I can do is moving closer with my lips touching his chaw and begging him to rub me hard and hot. I am spreading my left leg into the air as wide as I can manage without causing pain and gasp as his hot hand touches my throbbing flesh.

 

He is terribly cautious and I have to force him to take me. So he move in between my legs and slowly pushes the mushroomy head of his stiffy into my arse. I have to strain not to push down and instead I lift my head to nuzzle his throat, kissing him along the sinew at the side of his neck.

“Please, Woody, please. Now.” I am begging shivering with restrained want. “Please, take me. Take all of me.” He throws his right arm over me and carefully pushes his hand into my lower back as he moves his pelvis upwards to ever so slowly glides inside to fill me.

 

I am wriggling, gasping, begging him for more and I can hardly hold back for we hadn't been together like this in a while. So I am starving for each touch and for the tingling sensation that sends shivers up my spine each time he moves inside me.

 

He suddenly stops and looks me in the eyes. “What if we are shouting out? They will hear us.” I am chuckling at this thought and with a grin I am saying, “You can bit down on me not to cry and if I am we can say that applying the salve to the abrasions hurts.” I am giggling like a young girl as he grins and softly bits down on my left nipple which makes me hiss from sensation and pain.

He immediately lets go and is worried again but I smile and tell him to get over it. “I want you to fuck me properly. You hear. I'm not at all sure but this might as well be our last chance. So do it, but do it properly. I want to remember this. So do it as if it was our last time.”

 

He swallows hard, leans in and kisses me, tongue flicking deep into my mouth. His hands supporting my left leg as he thrusts himself deep inside me.

However it is all very awkward with my casted hand being in the way and so he turns me over and does me like a stallion would.

He then lifts me up so that I am sitting in his lap and I am no longer bother but still hot thumb down on him until we both cramp and I feel his hot liquid splashing against my gut. I am pushing down to bury him deep as his cock twitches and sputters his orgasmic load.

 

When I am slacken he catches me and carefully helps me to lay down on my side again. He snuggles up against me kissing me over and I hear him whisper how beautiful I am to him and that he loves me. Despite doctor's orders I am running the fingers of my left hand through his thick hair and he responds immediately as I a putting slight pressure on the back of his head, moving towards me until our lip meet.

Before I am allowing him to kiss me I reply “I love you too. Very much so, Woodrow.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Everett is ordered to bed rest for at least three days and we are spending these days together with activities I am not quite sure the doctor would approve.

Rett is very needy and wants me to make love to him like it is our last time. Deep down inside I am flinching at the idea for I know that sooner or later this is exactly what is to happen. So I am coming down upon him like a man dying of thirst and he's the last drop of water.

 

I try hard to push the thought of us having to separate aside but it isn't working well. Everett obviously sense me being desperate and he softens and opens up offering himself. I could cry looking at him, he is so beautiful when sexed up and needy with his eyes going all dark and wanting. I hardly can believe that this beautiful creature is longing for me.

I feel like being stabbed in my heart looking down on him with his eyes half-closes and is tongue wetting his lips constantly. Gasping for me taking him and all the lovely dirty talk he does when we fuck.

 

Unluckily the time rushes past and before we know it the doctor declares that his bones are healing nicely and that he is going to take the cast off the next day.

This means that we are to leave Hobbs soon. I leave Rett with the doctor the next day and go to meet with the sheriff to gather some information on the indian traffic in the area.

The sheriff tells me that they haven't had any raids in a long while and he suspects that all the apaches and comanches in the area must have gone to meet with their brothers on the Texan Panhandle.

 

Picking Rett up from the doctor, staring at his pale skin where the cast had been for the last two and a half weeks. I am sharing my intelligence and we are going to buy some stuff to take with us. I am deciding to stay for one more night and give Rett a little nudge to be prepared for what's to come. He grins at me and his face colours up delightfully at the prospect.

  


 

 


	19. Along Rio Pecos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaving Hobbs the two turn northward following Rio Pecos upstream.

  
  
**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire – Part 19**  (crossposted to gondorian_men and sons_of_gondor)

 

Author: J_Flattermann

Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1379 

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned or are historical persons. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: Mid to End September 1864.

_This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted._

 

_A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text._

 

 

 

 

  
  


Woodrow

 

We are both right horny that night as all those nights before we couldn't do nothing else but a little fondling due to Rett's injuries. We enter our hotel room and Rett looks at me. One of his typical long looks and I grin and nod.

  
He bolts the door and starts to strip off, whilst I am taking the bedding and the mattress down on the floor. For that springs on that bed are making a hell of a ruckus even with us only turning in our sleeps.

Putting away with the bed frame against the wall and when I am turning around again Rett is spreading out the bedding on the mattress, poking out his butt in the most delightful and inviting way. So I rush to shrug out of my rags and make my move.

 

Slapping him with my flat hand on the white cheeks that hardly see the sun. He starts to giggle and then tells me off for being impatient.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

I have to tell him off for being impatient if only in jest. But honestly I too am horny as shit and can't wait. So I give up on that damn bedding and turn around, open my arms and wave him to come. He immediately gets on his knees and sinks down in my open arms.

 

Tonight we have the hotel to us as everyone in Hobbs is attending a fiesta.

We were invited but used the urgency of our early morning departure as an excuse, when we are asked.

With the townsfolk making enough ruckus we actually don't need to worry if we are a little noisier than usual. However I am glad that Woodrow has been putting away that bed frame for it is not very comfortable and squeaks with every move we make.

 

Now he lies in my arms and for a while we just cuddle. “Are you sure it will not hurt you anymore?” He asks me and gently kisses my pale wrist.

“The doctor said it's good as new.” I tell him and run the fingers of my right hand through his thick, dark hair.

He turns my my left hand over and kisses the palm and then the wrist just where the pulse is and then further up my arm past my elbow and higher.

 

He turns around and places kisses in my armpit which tickles delightfully. Then he continues to my shoulders, my neck, the jaw and my throat. I take his face into my two hands forcing him to look at me and to kiss me on the mouth, but he refuses, instead kisses my nose and my chin.

“Stop messing, Woodrow. Just kiss me. Kiss me on the mouth.” I say and he chuckles and finally does as I say.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

Rett asks me to kiss him on the lips and after a little teasing I'm obliging. He eagerly opens his mouth as soon as our lips meet. His are warm, soft and slightly moist. I feel the heat of his mouth and his breath, smell his musky scent and taste the salty sweet on his tongue.

I close my eyes savouring whilst I am running my fingers over his body. He moans deep down in his throat and his chest vibrates under my hands. I am moving my hand down his side and over his tummy and I can feel his breath shortens and his heart beat rises.

 

I too am breathing faster with more urgency as I'm sucking his tongue into my mouth. His hands wander over my back and when he reaches my buttocks and squeezes I gasp in expectation breaking our kiss.

Very gently I am touching the nape of his neck as I'm rolling us both over until he rests on top of me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Everett

 

Woodrow asks me to top first and then we swap places. We are both mighty exhausted afterwards and rest side by side. He had been very quiet and there is a question nagging in the back of my mind. It takes me a bit to gather my courage but then I ask away.

“Woodrow? Do you think …?” He looks at me raising himself into a half sitting position. I hits me that his eyes look at me with some melancholic air. It feels like an icy hand is suddenly grabbing my heart.

 

“You reckon that this is our last ...” The words get stuck in my throat. He reaches out and strokes my face. Then he shrugs but doesn't say a word. I have to clear my throat before I manage to say some more. “Then we have to make each day last.” I say, “From now on we will treat each day as if it's our last. Woodrow?”

 

He nods and then swallows hard before lean down to me kissing me hard. “Yes.” His voice coaxes and he coughs away the emotion. I pull him down to me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Woodrow

 

We are early out the next morning and riding northwest to Missouri Plaza near the Pecos River. Because we are travelling on unknown soil we abandon the night rides. For the next leg all we have to do is to follow the Rio Pecos upstream. Strangely enough this part of the Comancheria seems like empty. The indians we learn on our way have all moved east and Woodrow gets worried for this means that they are planning an attack on Texan grounds.

 

Due to our unhindered journey we are faster underway than Woodrow had expected so we make only a short break in Missouri Plaza, which is located where the Hondo-Pecos estuary.

Before nightfall we arrive at Fort Sumner.

 

Our arrival went fairly unnoticed as the Commander had his hands full with the interned Navaho and Mescalero Apaches driven to here on gun point from their tribal territories in Arizona.

This of course explains why Woodrow and I experienced the plains as empty.

 

We are shown our quarters for the night and as we plan to head on early again, we fill our water supplies and request some spare food to stock up. The troops at Sumner have their hands full with the interned indians at Bosque Redondo as the camp hadn't been made for the large numbers of indians and especially as the two major tribes interned there are natural enemies.

 

The barren environment doesn't support the indian which causes more pain. With people starving or dying from deceases caused by the brackish water that was their only drinking water source.

We are glad that our water source is at the Fort. But I just want to make sure that we are not coming down with something nasty and so we boil the water before filling it into our water bags

Rett smiles when he sees me setting up our pot to boil but helps with the filling and refilling of the canteens.

 

Later that evening when we retire to our quarters he tells me that he had a talk to the quartermaster when going for our food supplies and was told that the men stationed at Sumner were often suffering from dysentery and similar conditions. “How did you know that boiling the water would prevent us from being infected?” I asked him and he shrugs in his typical shy way like he does when ever he does something extraordinary and is praised for. He looks down at his feet and smiles to the floor.

 

“Woodrow?” I not letting him off. He waves me to come and pours some more of the well water into our pot. “Smell.” He says and immediately I recognise a rotten mouldy smell of the water. “Ooh!” I say holding my nose instinctively and he laughs at me. “The water smells foul. I suppose the groundwater is contaminated with river water.” He explains. “Boiling gets rid of the irritating smell. However, we have to get used to a strange taste of the water from now on.” I nod, knowing that only the first few times we will notice the odd taste after that we will get used to it.

 

  


 


	20. Thirst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hitch and Call discover that the water they had taken up in Fort Sumner is foul.

  


**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire – Part 20**     [crossposted to [](http://sons-of-gondor.livejournal.com/profile) **[sons_of_gondor](http://sons-of-gondor.livejournal.com/) ** and gondorian_men]

Author: j_flattermann  


Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 1,144

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico. 

Timeline: Mid September 1864. 

This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text.

  
  


EVERETT

The taste of the water is simply disgusting and neither Woodrow nor I can get it down. That's why we use it for washing only. Especially after we noticed that the horses won't touch it either. 

It seems we are running out of luck!

The drinkable water supplies are at a minimum. Even if we ration strictly it will never last us through the day.   Not with the day starting out hot from the very beginning.

The horses suffer just as much as we do and our small water ration we halve to provide for the poor beasts as well.

The horses are so exhausted that we don't dare to ride on their backs. There is a long, tiring walk ahead of us and we know thirst will kill us. Still riding is out of the question. During one of our rests Woodrow contemplates the kill of one of the mares for us to drink her blood. But I dread the mere thought and so he dismiss the idea.

I suggest that we tie ourselves to the horses as we march, holding on to their tails. Suddenly I can't help it but have to laugh. Woodrow gives me his famous eye obviously wondering if I am already loosing it. He enquires what I find so funny. “You know, Woodrow, it's sheer madness.” I say. “We have so many large pouches full of water and yet we're dying of thirst.” 

He suddenly has an idea. He fetches four of our many bags containing the foul water and without further warning empties it over me. Drenches me to the bone. Clothes and all. Then he does the same with himself and the rest goes over the horses.

Strangely enough the cooling effect it has as the water condenses in the heat refreshes me. “That was a fucking good idea.” I confirm.

Even the horses seem to appreciate the cooling effect. 

 

* * *

 

WOODROW

  
The water we've got from Fort Sumner is no good. Even after boiling it still smells and tastes foul. We abandon using it as the horses reject it as well. My instinct tells me that if the horses won't drink it, it can't be good for us either.

However we and the animals are suffering greatly under the merciless sun. It's getting so bad that we have to dismount. I am very worried about Rett, who just has recovered from his injuries. That lack of water we are using due to strict rationing can't be good for him. Therefore I suggest to kill one of the mares and drink her blood. But he just shudders at the thought and so the idea is dismissed.

  
Rett comes up with the idea to tie ourselves to the horses and let them drag us behind. I can see how exhausted he is. It must be hard for him. As we are having a break I suddenly have an idea so I walk back and pick some of the bad water bags and I splashing the first right over his head drenching him, clothes and all. At first he is looking quite puzzled at me but as soon as the cooling effect kicks in he smiles, tips his head and says “Very clever.”

I do the same to the horses and myself. If we can't drink it, it at least can cool us down a little and as soon as it condensates on our skins we feel the cooling effect. The horses too enjoy the shower, helps to revive them a little and I decide to use the rest of the bad water bags in certain intervals on us all.

  
I am very angry with myself. Should have asked the gov'nor for an updated map of the New Mexico territory. Rett and I discussing our situation and we agree to turn toward the east again. Even if that means that we might leave the New Mexico territory again and cross over to Texas. But as long as we are not hitting a major river we are heading in the wrong direction. I know that the Pecos must run here somewhere. This is exactly the river we need to hit. Only without a proper map I can't say where the damn river is.

  
Since we left Fort Sumner which now lies several hours almost half a day back. Since then we have crossed mainly dry barren country. No water not even the smallest rivulet. These all weren't good signs at all. Finally I couldn't keep my concern to myself any longer and so Rett about my doubts. It was easy to get lost in the Stakes, especially when not familiar with the terrain. Even if we wouldn't hit the Pecos but go back to Texas, there I knew my ways and would certainly get along better.

  
Rett agreed to us turning our steps towards east again. So we kept the sun at first to our right and a little later in our backs. Before night fall we spied bushes and trees further ahead we mounted up again to cover the distance before dark. As soon as we reached the green girdle we could smell the water and so did our horses immediately speeding up again. We were not holding them back.

  
Thanks to the horses pushing on we managed to reach the valley before the sun went and we discovered that the the growth was triggered by a large river running in the midst.

Somehow I was relieved for the river flowed exactly in the direction I knew the Pecos should.

“Looks like we found the Pecos.” I said to Rett pointing out that the river ran from north to south. 

“How do you know for sure?” Rett asked back and I explained that in this area the Pecos was the only larger river flowing north to south. “All we need to do now is to follow this river upstream.” I said, “We will end up exactly were we should meet with Carson.”

  
Rett stared at me. “What if this isn't the Pecos, Woodrow?” Now it was my turn to stare puzzled. “How many rivers are you think run in the Stake?” I answered his question very impolitely with another question. However Rett grinned back at me. “Well, you are the expert, Woodrow. As I told you earlier, I've never been here before.” His question had thrown me slightly but I thought it better not to show. But what if he was right and this wasn't the Pecos. 

“Never mind,” I said out loud, “near rivers there are always settlements. We should come by a town or village soon I guess if we follow the river. There we can ask.” 

This reply must have seemed reasonable for Rett nodded, agreeing to my conclusion.

  


 


	21. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They manage to come upon water in the nick of time but is that still the right river they are following?

  
  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire – Part 21    [crossposted to [sons_of_gondor](http://sons-of-gondor.livejournal.com/) & gondorian_men]  
  
  
Author: [j_flattermann](http://j-flattermann.livejournal.com/)  
Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch  
Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa  
Genre: Slash  
Rating: NC-17  
Word Count: 1,341  
  
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
  
Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.   
  
  
Timeline: Mid September 1864.   
This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.  
A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”. I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text.  
  
  
  
  
  
EVERETT  
  
The horses can smell the water ahead and start pressing on. Suddenly it is hard to hold them back from galloping all the way down to the river.  
But we have to hold them back as we first want to make sure that we are not running into something nasty.  
So with the last bit of strength that is left in us we hold them back and force them to walk.  
Entering the green strip alongside the river banks we split up to circle whoever might be at the banks so we would trap in our plier approach.   
However the only living being we stirred up were some birds and a group of deer.   
  
Very much relieved we laughed our tension away and let our horses to drink.  
Woodrow gave himself a good wash of his face first and then he placed his black sombrero into the stream and drank from the water that gathered inside. I wondered why but followed his lead. In the past I usually had either drank directly or out of my hands. I never had seen anybody use his own hat as a filter. But all in all with the water silty and not quite clear due to the strong current it all seemed to make sense.  
  
“Keeps you from swallowing nasties.” Was all Woodrow had to say, when I asked him to the why he had used his hat in that fashion. “You be glad when you don’t pick up the shite.”   
I hadn’t thought of it but remembered how many of my fellow soldiers had suffered from dysentery. Somehow I had never made the connection with the water. “How do you know this stuff?” I asked Woodrow, who just shrugged.   
I read, he had answered my question and that made me wonder even more. I was well read as well, however I had never encountered a newspaper article on that subject matter. However I had seen Woodrow reading the book on Napoleon. Would they write about such things in that book?  
  
After we had quenched our nagging thirst and seen to the horses, we emptied the water bags. I was about to refill them when Woodrow held me back.   
“Need to clean’em first.” He said in his monosyllabic way. I was used to his short remarks by now, knowing that he even talked more with me than with anybody else, apart from Gus, who at times could bring him to rant but mainly out of anger.  
“What do you mean, clean’em? With what? There was only water in’em.” I replied, however Woodrow was already searching the river banks and soon returned with a smile on his face.  
  
“Here.” He said pushing some roots into my hand. “Soaproot.” Again I was dumbfounded. Woodrow was full of surprises.  
We broke up the roots and after turning the water bags inside out began to rub them with the roots which provided a kind of soapy foam.   
On my enquiring Woodrow had explained that the taste of the rotten water might stick to the bags spoiling the clean water and therefore he wanted to make sure that we got rid off all the bad smells and tastes sticking to the tarred leather.  
With enough soaproot to be found we gave ourselves and our clothes a good wash.   
  
Now after having reached the river and with our water bags filled with good sweet water our prospects to reach the next settlement somehow didn’t seemed to be so bleak anymore.  
Still Woodrow made sure that he wasn’t too sure that this river on whose bank we camped was the Pecos. If however it was to be the river Pecos then all we had to do was follow up stream and we would reach Santa Fe.   
If only we had been certain. But as it was we couldn’t do anything else but take our chances.  
  
  
WOODROW  
  
Despite our thirst and exhaustion we manage to keep the horses reined in and go to check out the place beforehand to avoid some nasty surprises. Therefore we split up and approach in a crescent each until we meet up at the river banks.   
On our way we stir up some birds and a group of deer. Makes me think that we should try and hunt. Some fresh meat in our supplies wouldn’t go to waste.   
But first things first …  
  
We are taking our time having our fill in regards of quenching our thirst and then see to our water supplies to be replenished. After that we give ourselves a good scrubbing. However the day is still young and I like to burn a little more ground before making camp. I’m still hoping that this is the Pecos but can’t be sure. So best we move on and find a settlement where I can establish if we are heading in the right direction.  
  
After discussing our prospects with Rett we decide to try our luck and assume that this is the Pecos and therefore follow upstream. At least as long as we follow the river the water remains accessible and we needn’t worry for supplies. Our short stop at the river has shown us that there is waterfowl and deer and other animals that can enrich our daily diet. However I am sure that sooner or later we will hit a settlement as long as we follow the stream.   
So we pack up again and carry on. The rocky embankment however is not good for the horses nor is the densely vegetated river valley. That is why we turn our horses out and just follow on the grassy strip between river and wasteland. Silently I’m praying that this is the Pecos after all. Otherwise we might lose time as the day of our meeting with Col. Carson in Santa Fe approaches.  
  
Halfway through the day the winds are picking up and we soon find ourselves coated with dust. The wind is hitting us with one dust twister after the other and despite our sombreros drawn deep and the rags tied before our mouths and noses we can feel the sand between our teeth.  
It is getting real nasty and therefore I signal Rett that we are withdrawing into the shade of the trees near the river to keep the wind a little at bay. The horses are easily persuaded as the sand and dust particles rub and sting in their eyes just as they do ours.  
  
However there is no chance to ride through the shrubs and therefore we dismount and lead the horses. We can hear the wind howling in the trees as we slowly make for the middle of the green girdle. A quick catch up with Rett confirms that he too thinks we should try to move on following the river further upstream as long as there is enough light for us to see.   
His remark about the light doesn’t count for nothing as the light is quickly fading as the storm is raging on.  
  
At least we are away from the dust and sand for the time being, so we slowly progress until we come to what seems the end of the flat and green part of the river valley. For suddenly the trees diminish and the river banks rise up. With no knowledge which river we are actually following, I am not sure if it will be a good idea to stay by the river. If the banks grow further and steeper we might get trapped.   
However the storm is still in full blow. So Rett and I turn back and move back into the trees. There we set up camp to outwait the storm and then rather follow the river up on the ridge.   
  
The storm raged all afternoon and only when the sun set low in the West the winds eased and finally died away. Rett and I exchanging quick looks decide to stay for the night in the shelter of the trees.  
  
  
  



	22. Fort Bascom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two have arrived, but there are many changes ahead.

  
Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire – Part 22    [crossposted to [sons_of_gondor](http://sons-of-gondor.livejournal.com/) & gondorian_men]  
  
Author:    
Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch  
Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa  
Genre: Slash  
Rating: NC-17  
Word Count: 1,165  
  
Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.  
  
Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.   
  
Timeline: Mid September 1864.   
This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.  
  
A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”.   
I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events or history persons and their interactions. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text.  
  
  
  
  
WOODROW  
  
We’re like sitting ducks laying low until the storm is over.   
Having time on our hands and utterly privacy we two snuggle up together. “Do you ‘spec someone bumping into us?” Rett asks and I shake my head.  
“Reckon we could …” Rett says grinning and peeling himself out of his kit, longjohns and all, grabs for me.  
That makes me grin and I swift follow his lead. I’m still wriggling out of my longjohns when he’s behind me giving me more than just a helping hand.  
He’s rubbing himself against my body and I can feel him getting hard doing it.  
I reach out for mine but he slaps my hand and brushes it away, reaches around and grabs my boner, starting to massage me.  
I moan and let my head fall backwards onto his shoulder, my hands rubbing at my nipples.  
Really getting weak in the knees. I manage to tell him that I want us to lie down. Without breaking his touch we manage to lie down on our soogans. He picks up with the rubbing of his gristle against my back.  
I reach behind and pull my buttocks apart. “Mount me.” I beg and Rett very much the tease rubs along several times with a little halt at my hole but not pushing inside just yet. I am getting impatient and push my arse out against his loin. “Mount me.” I hiss.  
Finally he pushes very slowly inside me inch by inch.  
I try to speed him up but he holds me firmly still and so all I can do is groan in my impatience.  
He chuckles and I can feel the vibration building up in his body until it hits his boner and me.  
“Damnit, Rett, don’t tease. Please.” I am starting to beg seriously now.  
He suddenly gives in and slams himself deep inside me which makes me go “OOF”.  
Pounding into me I cheer him on until we both reach climax.  
  
***  
  
EVERETT  
  
While the storm around us is brewing we are making quite a storm ourselves with Woodrow howling as loud as the winds in the trees around us.  
We are stuck for three days and we are making it count as if it was our last.  
A week later we are riding into Santa Fé. As we are entering the town we’re discussing if Carson had been already or not.  
The question answers itself as soon as we check into the hotel. The porter at reception hands Woodrow a dispatch, saying that Carson is running late as he’s caught up with Indian affairs. We’re told to report to Brig. General Carleton at Fort Bascom directly.  
This means we do have to travel on one more day. This time it will lead us back East in direction of the Texan border as the Fort is located near the Canadian River.  
  
Santa Fé isn’t much of a town anyway and dusty at best, so we aren’t too sorry to leave again. With the porter pointing us into the direction we ride out before break of dawn next morning. Woodrow is sending a dispatch ahead the evening before, announcing our arrival before nightfall. We arrive at Fort Bascom in the evening just before sunset the last day of October 1864 and immediately report to Gen. Carleton as requested.  
  
***  
  
WOODROW  
  
As Fort Bascom becomes visible before our eyes on the horizon I quietly make the decision to lay as low as possible. Even from afar the place reeked of Yanky predominance with “Old Glory” riding high over their heads and all the soldiers parading in blue.  
Even though Texas had been added to the Union some eighteen years ago, the vote had gone for segregation and as a member of the Confederates which flew their own, the “Stars and Bars”.  
I couldn’t say that I give a shit for either. However would have willingly saluted the “Lone Star Flag”.  
So of course I notice that Rett salutes the flag as we ride into the Fort and past the pole but I ignore the rag on it  and Rett bites a remark it seems, hefting his gaze back to the flag as he raises his hand to pull his stetson.  
  
Brigadier General James H. Carleton provides a cold reception for us, eyeing Rett with especially conspicuous suspicion. I had to bite my tongue not to laugh out loud. Wasn’t Rett not their own spy?  
However it seemed to me that Carleton struggled how to address Rett and it felt that my presence added to the tension.  
It sprang to my mind that Carleton was ignorant of the fact that I was in full know and he therefore struggled to keep Rett’s incognito intact.  
  
Three days later the infamous Col. Kit Carson arrived and he made a show of greeting us. Running over towards Rett he hugged him tight. “Hello old chum!” He shouted and proclaimed proudly that he had met Rett’s old man whilst working for Frémond in Washington. So he patted Rett’s back, shoulders and arms intensively for a while, very much to the annoyance of the Brig. General. Strangely enough Carleton neither intervened nor interrupted the scene, which gave me the impression that he was somewhat scared of Carson and his reputation.  
  
What I did take from Rett’s response to this all was that even he had been more than surprised by this reaction.  
In our presence Carson reported back to Carleton. His report included that he had managed to recruit several scouts from the Ute and Jicarilla Apaches, which he had found and taken from Lucien Maxwell’s ranch near Cimarron.  
  
The next days saw heated activities as two howitzers were made ready and the men got ready to march. On Novermber 10th we were ready and took to our marching orders, left Fort Bascom behind and followed the Canadian River further east to the Texan border.  
  
***  
  
EVERETT  
  
We are riding into Fort Bascom and on first glance I can see that this is a proper run Union Fort with the “Star Spangled Banner” riding high  and proud over our heads. So I salute as we pass by. A quick glance at Woodrow confirms that he has no intention to follow my lead. Not that I can blame him.  
  
It all feels strange to me too. Especially because I haven’t been under a Union command for quite some time now. Makes me slightly nervous.  
In secret I wonder how I will comply? Will it be easy or hard for me to fall back in line? What if I struggle?  
I know it had been my idea to join forces with Carson, signing up with Carleton’s regiment on this campaign.  
This is the only way I can spend some more time with Woodrow and re-enter Texas without being shot for being a spy.  
However what will come after that? I haven’t thought about that yet.  
Something inside of me refuses to look so far ahead.  
Well, tomorrow is another day.  
  
  



	23. Adobe Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call And Hitch are riding out with Col. Kid Carson to battle against the Indians at the Adobe walls.

 

  


**Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire – Part 23**     [crossposted to sons_of_gondor & gondorian_men]

Author: j_flattermann  


Pairing: Woodrow F. Call/Everett Hitch

Fandom: Comanche Moon/Appaloosa

Genre: Slash

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 2,019

Disclaimer: Pure Fiction. The character of Woodrow F. Call belongs to the Larry McMurtry estate. The character of Everett Hitch belongs to Robert B. Parker estate. All other characters mentioned belong to either of the above mentioned. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Hitch and Call are ordered to rendezvous with Col. Kit Carson in New Mexico.

Timeline: November 1864.

This fills the gap between movie chapter one/two and three. As the time between 1860 and 1865 is omitted.

A/N: Some of the mentioned events related to Larry McMurtry's book/movie “Dead Man's Walk”.

I do not claim authenticity in regards of historic events or history persons and their interactions. You will find some cowboy/Tex-Mex expressions within the text.

 

Woodrow

We’re finally out of Fort Bascom and moving steadily east.

Carson makes it clear that he means to follow the Canadian River downstream, expecting Comanche camps in the river valley as the Canadian crosses the Panhandle.

Following the river makes sense to me as crossing the Stakes at this time of year would be suicide. There is just one downside to this plan and that is that the ground will be mushy and the wagon train following us will most likely get into trouble for getting stuck in the mud.

 

However, we or rather Carson is lucky as just before we are to move out the last two nights and days are turning cold and in the cold snap the ground freezes thoroughly and remains frozen when we set out on the November 12th.

Still I am staying on alert as I know only to well from past experiences how fast the weather can turn on the Stakes.

Our troop contains a fair amount of cavalry, some infantry mainly to man the two howitzers and of course Carson’s Indian scouts.

 

Call it curiosity but I can’t help myself so I’m riding up next to the Colonel our leader and ask where he’s heading to.

“Adobe Walls.” He replies and explains that he knows the place well as he had been working there for a fella called Bent, some years ago. I’m astonished for this bit of news eluded me

However the fact that he’s leading us right into Comancheria doesn’t sit too well with me.

“Reckon, he knows what he’s doin’!” I tell Rett.

 

***

Everett

The daily drills are exhausting as I am no longer used to them. Also I’m kept so darn busy that I find hardly time to see Woodrow whilst we are station at the Fort.

So I’m glad when on November 10th Colonel Carson announces that we’re off in two days time.

As we are leaving Fort Bascom I’m riding next to Lieutenant George Pettis, who’s in charge of our artillery. I’m to command the twenty-six wagons that carry our food supplies and all kinds of tack was well as another ambulance wagon.

It seems like my fellow Bluecoats are not trusting me. I’m not to leave the wagons at any costs I am told and Carson rather gives me orders separate from the rest of his officers.

 

Strangely enough Woodrow is able to extract more information from the Colonel than I.

The fact that I am commanding the wagon train means that due to the marching order Woodrow is ‘miles’ ahead of me as he is to ride next to Carson and the whole fucking battalion is between us. I can’t say that I like that very much and I can’t say that it improves my mood.

As we follow down the Canadian Woodrow falls back occasionally to keep me up to date on the information he manages to squeeze out of our Colonel Carson.

“Howdy.” He greets me every time and then fills me in and gives me his opinion which at times is not very favorable toward our ‘famous’ leader.

 

Woodrow is careful only to show up next to me when Lieutenant Pettis is ahead of me checking on the two canons that are in his charge. Marching over rough ground the artillery is in danger to get damaged and Pettis and his men have their hands full to make sure that doesn’t happen.

With the wagons under my command forming the rear of our charge I have to stop them as we are hold up by the artillery before us. Gladly I don’t have to worry about my lot getting stuck or damaged with the ground firmly frozen.

 

***

 

Woodrow

My prediction proves right and we’re hitting very bad weather on the way a few days after we’ve left the Fort which means that it takes us twelve long days to reach Mule Springs in Moore County. I expected that when we’re out on the Stakes the weather would turn and true to form the Stakes are throwing their worst at us.

Carson is sending out a few his Indian scouts daily whilst the rest of them securing our flanks. On the 25th Carson’s scouts return with the news that they have spotted an Indian village and Carson decides to start an attack, so he calls for me to tell me that he’s planning to attack.

 

“I don’t want you involved, Ranger.” He tells me and orders me to fall back and stay behind with the wagon train and Rett.

“Fine by me. I’m here as observer only, Colonel. So that’s OK as long as I can have a front seat to your show, I reckon.”

Rett and his wagons are stationed on the higher ground above the Adobe Walls only the ambulance in his command is to accompany the troops down onto the flats.

I am staying there with him, walking closer to the ridge to get a look on the battle ground below.

At first it looks like Carson gets the upper hand but soon as the Reds regroup it becomes clear that they are outnumbering the Bluecoats and they are quickly gaining ground.

 

Carson and his men are forced to fall back to the Adobe Walls where he had stationed the ambulance and the artillery.

Still it becomes clear that the men are threatened to be over run as more and more savages are throwing wave after wave of attacks at the soldiers. Somehow Carson is able to hold the position and Pettis is firing several volleys at the attacking Indians.

The howitzers working well and the savages retreat.

Carson uses this break in the fighting to retreat to the Kiowa village he attacked first. But facing not only Kiowa, but also Comanche and Apache braves, he decided to burn down the village and under cover of the smoke he retreats with his men to the ridge we, Rett and I are on.

 

Quickly the howitzers are positioned again and now with the wagons providing more rounds of ammunition Carson orders a bombardment.

I overhear him saying to Lieutenant Pettis "Throw a few shells into that crowd over there."[[10]](http://www.forttours.com/pages/adobe.asp), who fires and very sufficiently pushes the savages back.

Despite the recommendation of the other officer to make use of the advantage which the position on higher ground would bring of the attacking Indians, Carson gives the orders to retreat fully and to return to New Mexico.

Under cover of the night we begin the retreat as Carson’s order can’t be ignored for he being the commanding officer of our charge.

 

When day breaks we check but find that the savages are not following and so we carry on with the march out.

 

***

 

Everett

Despite Woodrow and my recommendation to make use of the position on higher ground, Carson gives order to fall back and leave. Orders given we can’t do anything else but break up camp and start to move out back to New Mexico.

Somehow I have the feeling that Carson, who has lost six men and the doctor in the ambulance is working on 25 wounded, doesn’t believe he can turn this battle into a clear victory. Trying to keep the numbers of the wounded and casualties low triggers his decision. Woodrow agrees but also points out that this will not help with the dominance of the savages on the Panhandle but rather build their confidence and make the situation for the settler out here even worse.

However as the order has been given there is nothing we can do but to obey.

 

Woodrow doesn’t address Carson but I can read it in his eyes that he disapproves.

For the next couple of days as we are moving back westward towards the New Mexican border Woodrow remains very quiet, not even speaking a word to me.

Before we are back at the border I see him speaking with Carson who nods in agreement, then Woodrow falls back and rides up next to me.

I can immediately sense that he is going to drop a bombshell at me.

 

“What’s up, Woodrow?” I speak first, “I can see it in your face. Come on ‘fess up.”

He swallows, takes down his hat and scrapes his fingers through his hair, like he always does when he has to say something unpleasant. I can see and feel that he is nervous.

“Rett. I’m so sorry.” He struggles, searching for the right words and I almost know what is to come next.

“I’m not going back to New Mexico with you. It doesn’t make sense. I have to report back to Austin. So, I reckon, this is farewell.”

 

Even though I know what is to come I am so shocked that I break rank and stop my horse. I know that I might have to face punishment for this but at the moment I couldn’t care less.

Woodrow reins in his horse and comes after me. We’re sitting on our horses quiet. I find it impossible to look at him. We wait, watching Carson as he moves on and the troops vanish into one of the many gullies that are marring the landscape.

“What do you want me to do, Woodrow?” I am so hurt over sudden, despite knowing that this was to come sooner or later. I even understand that he doesn’t want to cross the border into New Mexico again. Texas is his home after all.

Of course I know that he is expected back in Austin now that this little expedition has come to an end. I only wished I could go with him but that is out of the question.

 

Somehow I manage to get down from my horse, feeling numb still.

_«This ... Would it really end like this?»_

“You know I have no other option.” He says softly and wraps me in his arms as he steps up behind me. “There is no logical reason how I could explain to the gov’ner why I have gone back to New Mexico with you.”

I know but still can’t offer him any comfort.

“Rett, tell me, what am I gonna do? I’m a Texas Ranger, first and foremost. Always have been, always will be. You know that.”

Of course I know, know that he is right. That it can’t be helped, just like the fact that I can’t stay in Texas without being imprisoned, tried for espionage and shot.

Still my heart doesn’t accept what my brain knows to be inevitable.

 

***

 

Woodrow

 

It was heartbreaking to watch how he snapped shut from the moment I revealed that I would not continue to travel with them. I reckon, he just hadn’t expected our separation to happen so early. However, it can’t be helped, it was clear from the moment we heard that he wasn’t allowed back to Texas unless being tried and executed. Our separation was inevitable but we both just pushed that thought far back into our heads ignoring the facts.

I saw him struggling and I felt helpless. There was nothing I could do to take the pain away. I myself found it hard to breath.

I’ve never been good with words and now they fail me big time.

 

I watch him climbing off his mount, walking away from me. Seeing him like this hurts like hell.

Getting off my horse I cover the ground until I reach him and take him in my arms. Struggling to explain why, but still words failing me, seeming insufficient.

I brush a kiss on his ear. “I wished ... Rett. I really wished ...” I can’t say more as my throat closes.

He turns in my arms and holds me tight. He too isn’t able to speak. But it’s not necessary, I know.

I press a kiss on his lips, break free from the embrace. Turn and walk back to my horse.

Mounting up I kick the flanks and ride off without turning.

I hate ‘farewells’ and this one is the hardest for me, as I’m not sure if our paths will ever cross again ever.

 

**THE END**

 


End file.
